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WITH SEEING EYES 

The Unusual Story of an Observant 
Thinker at the Front 




Harold Morton Kramer. 
In the field, with shrapnel helmet, and gas mask at the alerte. 



WITH SEEING EYES 

The Unusual Story of an Observant 
Thinker at the Front 



By 

HAROLD MORTON KRAMER 



tLLVSTRATED 




BOSTON 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO. 



Published, October, 1919 



Copyright, 19 19, 
By Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. 



All Rights Reserved 



With Seeing Eye* 



OCl 'd^ iUiO 



IWorwooD ipresa 

BERWICK & SMITH CO. 

Norwood, Mass. 

U. S. A. 



©CI.A535515 



A-% -C ( 



?i 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 



I. 


"We'll Be Over— We're Coming 
OVERI" .... 


I 


II. 


In the Submarine Zone 


. i6 


III. 


Our Convoy — and the Shores of 
France . . . • . 


31 


IV. 


How the .French Regarded the Yankj 


> 48 


V. 


Concerning French Morals 


. 69 


VI. 


The Billeting Officer . 


. 86 


VII. 


The Unsung Song . . . . 


105 


VIII. 


The Air-Raid .... 


13? 


IX. 


What the Yank Will Not Forgive 


. 156 


X. 


Opening of Bombardment of Paris 


174 


XI. 


The Truth About " Big Bertha " 


187 


XII. 


The Power of a Laugh 


208 


XIII. 


The Light in the Darkness . 


227 


XIV. 


The Yank and His Allies 


• 237 


XV. 


Joan of Arc's Birthplace . 


254 


XVI. 


Memorial Day in France . 


. 261 


XVII. 


The Smiling, Fighting Army 


272 


XVIII. 


'• Leave " Trains and Barber-Shops 


286 


XIX. 


What the Fourth of July Did . 


296 


XX. 


Helmets and Gas- Masks 


. 305 



n 


CONTENTS 




XXI. 


Shells, Traitors, and Religion . 


. 326 


XXII. 


Patrols and Airmen . 


. 341 


XXIII. 


The Crossroads Under Fire 


. 355 


XXIV. 


A Visit to England 


• 364 


XXV. 


Ireland — Land of Dissension 


. 377 


XXVI. 


The Glow in the Sky . . • 


. 383 



ILLUSTRATIONS 

Harold Morton Kramer Frontispiece 

FACING PAGE 

The Place de la Concorde 72 

Y. M. C. A. Tent 114 

French and Yanks 132 

Samples of French Money 168 

The Long-Range Bombardment 172 

Nenette and Rintintin 224 

The Gare de I'Est 224 

Birthplace of Joan of Arc 256 

Street in Domremy 256 

French Bread Card 276 

French Sugar Card 278 

Two Gas-Masks 316 

Ready for a Gas Attack 316 

English Food Card 370 



vu 



WITH SEEING EYES 



CHAPTER I 

"WE'LL BE OVEEr-WE'EB COMING OVER!" 

OUTSIDE, the February blizzard 
shrieked and tore at everything mov- 
able; within the hotel an assemblage 
of snow-bound travelers crowded the dining- 
room and with unusual enthusiasm cheered the 
radiant-faced girl — a member of the vaudeville 
company held prisoners by the storm — who was 
singing " The Star-Spangled Banner." 

News had just reached this storm-isolated 
spot that the President had severed dij)lomatic 
relations with Germany, and the thrill that shot 
through America had caused this group to for- 
get all else in their discussion of his action. An 

impromptu patriotic program resulted, with 

1 



2 WITH SEEING EYES 

the crowd cheering its endorsement of the 
nation's decision. 

True, our people had been repeatedly told 
that severing diplomatic relations " would not 
necessarily mean war," but this night no one 
doubted that at last America was going into 
the war. Numbered among the blizzard's vic- 
tims in that Minnesota hotel, I listened to the 
singing and the patriotic exuberance — and as 
countless thousands of others were doing at 
that moment, I faced a great question and 
struggled to find the proper answer. That my 
soldiering days were past seemed certain. A 
heart weakness bequeathed to me by my period 
of service in the Spanish War determined that. 

But if America went in, was there not some 
way in which I could have a part? It was a 
question to which I found no satisfactory an- 
swer for many weeks. 

Spring came with its blossom-glory and then 
gave way to the maturity of summer, a summer 
when a pleasure-loving people paused, caught 
their breath in the first agony of sacrifice and 
then slowly went to their knees in prayer for 
guidance and strength. 



"WE'LL BE OVER" 3 

America had gone in. 

By midsummer American soldiers were in 
France. Before the first frosts had made 
gorgeous the leaves of oak and maple or the 
sumac by the roadsides had flamed into scarlet, 
officers' training-camps had turned out their 
first classes and the youth of the nation, care- 
fully selected, was marching into the canton- 
ments singing: 

*' Good-bye, Ma, 
Good-bye, Pa, 
Good-bye, mule, with your old hee-haw!" 

Oh, the wondrousness of Youth! The joy 
of its strength ! The marvel of its light-heart- 
edness! In those first days it won for the 
khaki the title of " The Singing Army," and 
in after daj'^s, with the hot breath of battle 
withering its ranks, Youth justified the title 
it had won. 

And so America went in. 

Then there came an early December day 
when I stood on the deck of a ship, the 
Espagne, of the French line, as we slipped 
away from a North River pier and started 
for the great sea, beneath which lurked sub- 



4 WITH SEEING EYES 

marines and beyond which was the Great Ad- 
venture. An incoming vessel whistled a salute 
to us, their band assembled forward and played 
" The Star-Spangled Banner," while the pas- 
sengers of both ships lined the rails and 
fluttered handkerchiefs. 

Curiously enough, as I heard " The Star- 
Spangled Banner " played on the deck of the 
other ship my memory jumped back to that 
February night when a snow-bound vaudeville 
singer had roused a hotel full of people to new- 
found heights of patriotism with the magic of 
its challenge. That stormy night I had sor- 
rowed because my soldiering days were past. 
In truth, they were — but this December even- 
ing I trod the deck of an ocean liner wearing 
the uniform of the Y. M. C. A., and I was 
bound for France to take my place beside 
those who were privileged to carry rifles or 
serve the artillery or do battle in the air — or 
Avhat not. For two months I had worn the 
uniform, serving in Camp Zachary Taylor, 
Louisville, Kentucky, and then I had been ac- 
cepted for overseas service. 

Physical examination? Oh, yes, there had 



"WE'LL BE OVER" 5 

been one in New York. But — well, here I 
was. So let's not discuss the " hows " and the 
*' whys " of that stage of my journey to the 
trenches. Over there was work for everybody 
who had the will. Possibly there were doctors 
in the world who believed that where the spirit 
was willing a man in a Y. M. C. A. uniform 
was an asset to the American army in France 
even if the flesh was weak. So I stood at at- 
tention on the deck of the liner while the pass- 
ing band played our national anthem and the 
Espagne steamed out to sea. 

A cold wind was sweeping up the river, but 
most of the Espagne' s passengers remained on 
deck, loath to seek the four walls of state- 
rooms while their eyes might be banqueted with 
the sight of American shores, even though the 
vision was princij)ally of dingy and irregular 
piles of masonry and stone that, viewed from 
New York's streets, constitute the architectural 
marvels of a progressive nation, but which, seen 
from the sea, are unsightly jumbles wreathed 
and festooned with smoke and haze that on this 
December afternoon were flecked by snow 
flurries. 



6 WITH SEEING EYES 

Just as the wintry dusk was falling we 
passed the Statue of Liberty, presented to the 
people of our country by the people of France. 
The uplifted hand seemed waving a good-bye 
to us as we passed out to sea, and I wondered 
what was in store for me between this good-bye 
and the wonderful day — if it ever came — ^when 
I should stand on the deck of another ship and 
interpret that uplifted hand as a greeting for 
my safe return. 

The shores of my native land faded from 
view as I stood on deck. The ship began to 
yield more and more to the roll of the open sea, 
in the deepening darkness I strained my eyes 
for the last glimpse of America, and on the 
wings of the whispering winds I sent my good- 
byes to wife, to the land of my birth, and to all 
that I held dear. The engines were thud-thud- 
thudding, the sea was " sw-s-s-s-h-ing " louder, 
four bells (six o'clock) sounded, and from some 
mysterious place a gong reverberated its call 
to dinner. I turned to answer its summons, 
but paused to cast another backward look. 
Then I walked to the front of the ship and 
stared out across the dark waters. From out 



"WE'LL BE OVER" 7 

of the tossing sea a great Question Mark 
seemed to rise before me. 

Slowly our ship threaded its way through 
the mine-fields that guarded New York. 
Presently our engines stopped, and I stood on 
deck in the darkness wondering why. Sud- 
denly a dazzling wedge of light shot across the 
waves and in its glare I saw a rowboat bobbing 
about close to us, and a man was going down a 
rope ladder lowered over the side of our ship. 
We were " dropping " our pilot. In a moment 
the tiny boat was at the foot of the ladder, I 
saw the pilot leap into it and wave his hand. 
Instantly the searchlight flashed away from us, 
from out of the darlaiess where I had last seen 
the rowboat came a hoarse shout, our engines 
began to thud again, and we were on our way 
across the Atlantic. I went m to dinner. 

At dinner the service was excellent and 
cuisine all that could be asked, but it was a 
French ship, with French officers, crew and 
servants, I knew no French, and the waiters 
knew no English. So I ordered my dinner by 
pointing to articles on the menu card, which 
was printed in both French and English, but 



8 WITH SEEING EYES 

the success of this plan was marred by the fact 
that the garpon seemed unable to see straight 
when I pointed out my order on the card. 

This condition of affairs continued through- 
out the voyage, and the waiter's ability to see 
straight did not improve any faster than my 
French. My lot was the common lot of all 
who spoke no French. After one had ordered 
by the sign language one waited with consider- 
able curiosity to see just what was brought. 
There was no gayety in the dining-room and 
no music. The passengers assumed an air of 
cheerfulness, but most of the smiles were as 
set as a design on china-ware. Everybody pre- 
tended — but nobody was deceived. 

We were running without lights of any kind 
visible on the outside. Not even a cigarette's 
glow was permitted on deck. Thud-thud- 
thud went the engines, the voice of the sea be- 
came louder, the darkness deepened as the stars 
hid behind heavy cloudbanks, and yielding 
more and more to the Atlantic's heaving roll 
our ship moved like a phantom through the 
black night that brooded over the waters. 

Not even the glow of New York's waste of 



"WE'LL BE OVER" 9 

light now showed on the western horizon, and I 
gave up my lonely after dinner vigil on deck 
and went inside. The passageways of the ship 
were dimly illuminated with carefully shaded 
lights, and all portholes were tightly shut and 
covered with heavy disks as an added precau- 
tion against the escape of a ray of light. 

In the smoking-room men were talking in 
subdued tones, smoking much but drinking 
little. No hilarity of any kind here. In the 
salon a little company of passengers was mak- 
ing a brave attempt at jollity, led by two Y, M. 
C. A. workers, one a young woman canteen- 
worker who was at the piano playing accom- 
paniments for one of the men secretaries who 
stood at her side singing and striving to inject 
cheer into the group. But it was futile. The 
parting from loved ones was too recent, the 
perils of the submarine-infested sea too new 
and real. 

* * Over there ! Over there ! 
Send the word, send the word over there, 
That we '11 be over, we 're coming over — 
And we won't come back till it's over over there!*' 

The splendid baritone voice rolled the words 



lo WITH SEEING EYES 

out with a snap that for a moment roused the 
listeners from their lethargy, and a little burst 
of applause greeted him. Ah, little did he 
know that the Angel of Fate had written his 
name as one who would not come back even 
when it was over over there. Gallant and fear- 
less, strong and full of the joy of life he was 
when last I saw him near the flaming battle 
lines of the Luneville sector. Not long after- 
ward he fell, killed by a shell, while serving his 
country in the only way circumstances had 
privileged him to serve. 

The days passed rather wearily. The chap 
who invented the phrase about *' keeping on, 
keeping on " must have thought of it while on 
board ship, listening to the everlasting thud of 
the engines and dismally reflecting that for 
days the roll and pitch of the vessel would be 
unceasing. 

Many were missing from the dining-room 
the first morning because of seasickness, but 
beyond a slight headache that remained with 
me much of the voyage I was fit. The 
Espagne was armed with a rapid-fire three- 
inch gun forward and two six-inch guns at the 



"WE'LL BE OVER" ii 

rear, all manned by French naval gunners. 
Shells were piled beside the guns, and every 
minute the sea was being closely scanned for 
submarines. 

We had sailed without any convoy, the 
rumor being that a destroyer or some other 
type of fighting vessel would meet us soon 
after we put to sea and guard us on our voy- 
age. About noon on the second day we sighted 
a ship, miles away, low down on the horizon, 
and the Society for the Spread of Groundless 
Rumors immediately announced that the 
stranger was " part of our convoy." A little 
study, however, proved beyond question that 
the ship was sailing westward, which effectu- 
ally did away with the convoy storj''. 

Let it here be recorded that the greatest 
abiding-place of rumors known to man is the 
deck of a ship a thousand miles out at sea. 
The rumors begin as soon as the vessel leaves 
its pier, and the farther out to sea it gets the 
more numerous they become. It is the only 
place in the world that beats an army canlp for 
rumors. 

The convoy i*umor was the first to seize the 



12 WITH SEEING EYES 

Espagne in its grip, and it lived all the way 
across the Atlantic until the day — and a truly 
glad day it was for all of us — ^when a little wasp 
of the sea did come dashing out to fight for us 
against a German submarine that was creating 
havoc not many leagues away. No one ad- 
mitted nervousness, but every one was frankly 
interested in the question of whether or not we 
were to have any protection other than our own 
guns. 

This universal interest caused the convoy 
rumor to assume many — and sometimes laugh- 
able and absurd — forms. I remember well of 
a dear old lady who was extremely nervous be- 
cause of the submarine peril, but who came to 
me late in the afternoon of the second day, her 
face wreathed in one of the most genuine 
smiles I saw on any face during the entire 
voyage. 

"I feel so much better now that I have 
found out about our convoy," she said, happily. 

" Our convoy? " I asked, in uncertainty. 
" Well, just what have you found out about it? " 

" Oh," she replied, with a joy note in her 
voice, "it is keeping out of sight, just below 



"WE'LL BE OVER" 13 

the horizon, but following us all the time, keep- 
ing in touch by wireless and ready to rush up 
and sink any submarines that attack us." 

" Um-m-m — isn't that great! " I exclaimed 
with feigned enthusiasm that found a sincere 
response in her soul. 

Absurd? Certainly. But why destroy her 
peace of mind by proving the absurdity? 
Throughout the rest of the voyage she was 
calm and content in her belief that our valiant 
guardians were watching over us — out of sight, 
just below the horizon. 

Again night came upon the sea, again the 
portholes and windows were carefully blinded, 
and once more we were in a world of faint 
light and feigned cheerfulness. Still our 
thoughts were behind us. We were remem- 
bering that back there were our loved ones ; we 
knew that back there the lights were gleaming 
brightly, and we turned from thoughts of that 
blessed land of light only to think ahead into 
the unknown future in an effort to picture the 
wonderful day when we would be sailing in the 
other direction, straining our eyes for the first 
glimpse of the God-loved land of the Stars and 



14 WITH SEEING EYES 

Stripes. And so we harked to the thud-thud- 
thud of the engines that were driving us farther 
and farther away from home through a starless 
night and across a peril-infested sea. 

Sunday morning dawned in storm and blind- 
ing clouds of rain and spray wind-driven until 
tiny streams found their way through the door 
crevices and ran down the companionways. 
When I opened my eyes I found the ship 
plunging and rolling terrifically, and also dis- 
covered that the stateroom was oppressively 
warm. When I sat up in my berth the per- 
spiration started very easily, and when I 
dressed and started toward the dining-room I 
became aware that life was not all joy. Mak- 
ing my way to the promenade deck, I found 
that the sea was rumiing mountains high, the 
'atmosphere was muggy, and here and there, 
clinging to the guard-ropes were groups of dis- 
tressed-looking passengers, viewing the angry 
ocean. The night before it had been quite 
cold. Now it was like summer, the change 
being due to the fact that we had entered the 
Gulf Stream during the night. 

All day long the storm raged, and but few 



"WE'LL BE OVER" 15 

appeared in the dining-room. And so the day 
passed, with the ship plunging and rolling and 
creaking. Night came down eai'ly, and the 
wind died away, but the sea still ran high. A 
few tried to spend the evening as usual in the 
salon, but by eight o'clock the smoking-room 
and salon were deserted and only the state- 
rooms knew the hum of voices — and occa- 
sionally the mournful sighs of the victims of 
seasickness. 

Sleep was just winning me from the con- 
sciousness of all this when I heard the ship's 
whistle. Raising on one elbow, I listened. 
Yes, there it was again, low, sonorous, long- 
drawn. 

" Oo-00-o-oo-oo ! " " Oo-oo-o-oo-oo ! " it 
sounded over and over again, ominously. 
Then another portentous fact forced itself 
upon me. 

Our engines had stopped. 



CHAPTER II 

IN THE SUBMARINE ZONE 

WITHOUT doubt our engines had 
stopped. No longer could we hear 
that monotonous thud-thud-thud 
that had been with us without cessation since 
we left New York. 

" Oo-oo-o-oo-oo ! " " Oo-oo-o-oo-oo ! " moaned 
the whistle, and with engines stopped we lay 
pitching and rolling in the trough of the heavy 
sea — the most unpleasant sensation possible to 
be experienced on an ocean voyage. 

Dressing hurriedly and going on deck I 

found our ship hove to in a world of dense fog, 

through which a heavy downpour of rain was 

coming. The whistle was sounding a warning 

for other ships that might come slipping 

through the ghostly gray that defied visual 

penetration to a distance of ten feet. At 

regular intervals the doleful fog-signals 

16 



IN THE SUBMARINE ZONE 17 

boomed out over the waters, and our engines 
had been stopped as an extra precaution. 

Groping my way back to the doorway I left 
the deck, and in the smoking-room found one 
of the ship's officers who could speak a little 
English. He told me that the rain would beat 
down the waves and that we would have a 
calmer sea on the morrow. It was good, he 
said, that the rain should fall. But when I 
asked as to the danger of a collision in the fog 
he shrugged his shoulders in the French way — 
which is not the shrug as portrayed on the 
American stage — and as the whistle somided 
he pointed in its direction and again shrugged 
his shoulders, as if to say, " You hear our warn- 
ing. It is all we can do." 

Presently the fog began to lift and our en- 
gines started. I returned to bed, and was 
dropping off to sleep once more when the 
whistle resumed its moaning, and a moment 
later the engines stopped. The fog had come 
down again. Heavy fogs are not delightful 
incidents of a sea voyage. The record of 
maritime disasters is thickly sprinkled with 
collisions due to fogs. But, rocked in the 



i8 WITH SEEING EYES 

cradle of the deep, with the dolorous " Oo-oo- 
o-oo-oo-ing " of the fog-signal for my lullaby, 
I sank to sleep, and w^hen I awoke it was morn- 
ing, with the sea much calmer, but no signs of 
sunshine. 

All that day we ran through a gray mist — 
part of the time rain — and fog. I stood on 
deck as night came down once more and looked 
away across a dreary waste of rolling ocean, 
with spray dashing high and the waters turn- 
ing black with the deepening dusk, drenching 
rain, fog banks and lowering clouds. Then 
came night, and at nine o'clock the Y. M. C. A. 
company and a few others assembled in the 
Children's Room and had a prayer service. It 
was impressive, and there were tears in most 
eyes when the leader prayed for the safety and 
comfort and happiness of our loved ones at 
home. 

During the prayer service the engines again 
stopped and the fog-signal moaned time after 
time. But finally the wind came up and in a 
measure dispelled the fog, so that when I went 
out on deck the Espagne was again plmiging 
ahead in utter darkness, while the sea roared 



IN THE SUBMARINE ZONE 19 

and swirled and raced past our vessel with a 
queer sucking sound. We were a little more 
than a thousand miles from New York. 

All the next day it was the same story. 
Morning came with the familiar dull sky, the 
unpleasant lurch and creak of the ship in heavy 
seas. During the day the skies cleared for a 
time and the passengers promenaded the decks 
enjoying the respite from storm. No one 
kncAv the course we were sailing — that was one 
of the war-time secrets — but we had either 
swung far south or else were in the Gulf 
Stream, for the temperature was very moderate 
and wraps were laid aside. 

I was standing with my back to the rail talk- 
ing to an army officer when I saw a strange 
look suddenly come into his eyes ; he threw his 
arm in front of his face and crouched, at the 
same time shouting, " Look out ! " But before 
I could make a move of any kind a great wave 
SAvept over the promenade deck, rolling almost 
as high as the bridge, and descended upon all 
who had not seen it and scurried to shelter. 
It was a genuine surprise-deluge — a freak of 
the sea — for even the flying spray had not been 



20 WITH SEEING EYES 

reaching the promenade deck for the last sev- 
eral hours. And not another wave came near 
the deck during the remainder of the day. But 
that one drenched me from the top of my head 
to my toes, necessitating a complete change of 
clothing. 

We were beginning to wonder at the (seem- 
ingly, at least) lack of precautionary measures, 
such as boat-drills, etc. Up to the present 
there had been no suggestions that we should 
keep our life-belts near us, nor had there been 
any bulletins issued regarding boat-drills. In 
each stateroom printed instructions in both 
French and English told the numbers of the 
lifeboats to which the occupants of the different 
berths were assigned and also informed us that 
in case it became necessary to abandon ship the 
women and children would enter the boats from 
the promenade deck; the men would wait until 
the boats were lowered to the water and would 
then go down the ladders to them. But up to 
the present there had been no boat-drills. 

The printed instructions in the staterooms 
also said: " In case of accident, the whistle and 
bell will give the alarm." And when the fog 



IN THE SUBMARINE ZONE 21 

came on the whistle roared continually, and 
throughout each day and night there was a 
constant jangle of bells of one kind or an- 
other — dinner-gongs, ship's bell striking the 
hour, call bells, etc. — so that the nervous ones 
found their hours filled with alarms. 

It was the fifth day when we found a notice 
posted calling for boat-drill at three in the 
afternoon. To most of us it was a welcome 
call, for we were nearing what was officially 
designated " the danger zone." At 2: 45 that 
afternoon one of the stewards went up and 
down the corridors energetically ringing a 
large hand-bell, a bell that brought me 
memories of my boyhood days back in Indiana 
when milkmen used to announce their call by 
ringing just such bells. 

The ringing of the bell was the signal, and 
pursuant to instructions in the notice we 
scurried to our staterooms and reappeared 
wearing our life-belts, while a few *' aristo- 
crats " waddled out on deck garbed in the in- 
flated and alleged non-sinkable suits that were 
being so persistently advertised bj^ the New 
York stores at that period. Dressed m those 



22 WITH SEEING EYES 

affairs they reminded one of the so-called comic 
pictures of " Billy Bounce." One of the most 
striking comments I can make on the abnormal 
condition of mind of folks who sailed the seas 
in those days is that no one seemed to see any- 
thing ludicrous in the appearance of these peo- 
ple as they toddled up the companionways to 
the boat deck, where we had been instructed to 
assemble. 

Some one of the ship's officers who could 
speak fair English shouted to us to gather in 
groups by the boats to which we had been as- 
signed. We did so, after which the officer 
came to each group, called the roll of that com- 
pany, and then told us to descend to the prome- 
nade deck, where further instructions would be 
given. We were told that the numbers of our 
boats would be found painted in red above the 
spots where the different boats were to be 
lowered. We finalh?^ found the numbers. 
Then the officer came along and informed us 
that in case of disaster we were to assemble on 
these spots, the boats would be lowered until 
the women and children could board them 
there, and later the men were to go down the 



IN THE SUBMARINE ZONE 23 

ladders to the boats after they had been lowered 
to the water, just as the printed instructions in 
our rooms had stated. 

That was the extent of our " boat-drill." 
Most of us were very careful mentally to mark 
the proper post, and then we investigated and 
located the shortest and best route to that spot 
from our staterooms. 

When night came again it found the prome- 
nade deck a fairly popular sleeping-place, for 
many preferred to wrap up in rugs and 
blankets and spend the night fully dressed in 
deck-chairs near their boat station rather than 
to risk disaster finding them in their staterooms 
far from the lifeboats. That evening the 
souvenir cabin passenger list was issued. It 
showed a total of 376 passengers on board, of 
whom 187 were first-cabin, 128 second-cabin, 
and sixty-one steerage. 

By this time most of the passengers had re- 
covered from their seasickness, had gro^vn ac- 
customed to ship conditions, and had decided 
that as long as they were compelled to live for 
some days in a little world of their own they 
had as well make the best of it. So now in the 



24 WITH SEEING EYES 

evenings we were having entertainments of 
various kinds in the salon. We had lectures, 
music, moving pictures, readings, and "stunts." 
Then we would pace the dark decks for an air- 
ing before seeking our staterooms, and occa- 
sionally we would pause to lean over the rail 
and watch the phosphorescent display in the 
waters beside the speeding ship. In the foam 
caused by the passing of the vessel the phos- 
phorus would flash as if myriads of tiny lan- 
terns were being darted here and there beneath 
the waves. At times the water seemed to be 
fairly blazing. 

All things must end, and so there came a 
time when we could say, " To-morrow our voy- 
age will end." That night was the eighth one 
we spent on the Espagne, and it was the night 
of our voyage, for now we were in the very 
heart of the danger zone, imperiled by subma- 
rines and mines. Monotonously we thud-thud- 
thudded along — and every soul on board real- 
ized that at any minute we might be blown out 
of the water. And yet, what did we do? Oh, 
sing, laugh, crack jokes, write letters — and 
show a deep affection for the ugly cork life- 



IN THE SUBMARINE ZONE 25 

belts that most of us now carried with us wher- 
ever Ave went. 

A large number of the passengers spent this 
night on deck, curled up near the boats, with 
life-belts near their sides. Perhaps some had 
them on. Who could tell, out in that brood- 
ing darlaiess? In the afternoon people who 
carried life-belts around with them had been 
made the targets for a bit of chaffing — some 
kindly and much of it unkindly — on the part 
of those who affected a bravado that was sense- 
less. But by evening this spirit had died away, 
and there was no longer a sneer for any one 
who carried a life-belt. 

All day Ave had been running with all boats 
swung out over the sides, ready for instant 
launching. The rope ladders had been let 
doAA^n, and by each ladder there was a cluster 
of electric lights Avith a reflector to throw the 
light on the ladder and boat — if the poAver 
plant were not demolished by the explosion, 
Avhich was not unlikely if we were torpedoed 
or struck a mine. 

Our old friend, the Convoy Rumor (by this 
time it had groAvn old enough to be capitalized) , 



26 WITH SEEING EYES 

again visited us this afternoon when we sighted 
a three-masted ship some miles away on our 
right (or should I be nautical in my descrip- 
tions and say " starboard beam "?) and ahead 
of that ship we could discern another vessel of 
some sort, riding low in the water. Immedi- 
ately the Society for the Spread of Groundless 
Rumors was on the job, and in a few minutes 
we were served with everything from a decoy 
ship and submarine to " Our Convoy." 

The Espagne quickly fluttered a ropeful of 
flag signals, but if the strangers paid any at- 
tention to them, those of us who had glasses 
were not able to discover the fact. Neither do 
I know what our signals meant. Finally the 
two ships disappeared below the horizon — 
headed westward. The convoy myth had per- 
ished once more. My glasses plainly showed 
me that the low-riding vessel was a torpedo- 
boat destroyer — but beyond that fact I know 
nothing. 

When night came I pondered on the question 
of whether I should remain in my stateroom or 
sleep on deck. For the last two nights I had 
slept in my berth with my clothes on, ready 



IN THE SUBMARINE ZONE 27 

for any emergency. There were those who 
scoffed — yes, just as there are those who per- 
sist in lighting fires with gasoline and sneer at 
whosoever urges prudence. To my mind it 
seemed to have become a question of some (my- 
self included) sleeping — really sleeping — ^^vith 
their clothes on and others scoffing in their 
bravado and then undressing and spending the 
nights in sleeplessness. And after I had 
analj^zed the problem I decided to spend this 
critical night out on deck. 

Need I say that it was one of the strangest 
nights I ever experienced? Wrapped in my 
overcoat and blankets, I stretched out in a 
deck-chair close to the boat to which I was as- 
signed, and with my life-belt across my knees 
I was as nearly ready for an emergency as it 
was possible to be. The decks were in total 
darkness, heavy clouds were hanging over us, 
and always there were the steady thudding of 
the engines and the swishing roar of the sea. 
And always one knew that at any instant a 
torpedo or a mine might blow up the ship. 

Those of us who chose the deck for our sleep- 
ing-quarters that night had plenty of company. 



28 WITH SEEING EYES 

Nearly all the chairs were occupied. People 
groped their way about the dark deck, joked 
with friends as they fell over deck-chairs or 
friendly feet or snarled at strangers who 
growled when their chair was jostled or their 
toes trodden upon. But for the most part 
people were cheerful and forbearing — and un- 
der a strain. No doubt of it. The fact was 
evidenced by the jerky voices, the nervous 
giggles, the explosive oaths, and the fact that 
occasionally some one would unwrap himself 
from rugs and blankets and go to the rail and 
stand peering out over the dark sea. And all 
night long there were sleepless passengers who 
paced the deck, back and forth, back and forth, 
or around and around the ship. 

Sleep came to me that night more generously 
than I had anticipated. Occasionally I awoke 
for brief periods, listened to the "sw-s-s-s-h " of 
the sea, the subdued conversation of sleepless 
ones, the thud of the engines, and then sleep 
would come again. 

Toward morning I became aware that it had 
turned suddenly colder, and by the peculiar 
lurching of the ship I knew that we were zig- 



IN THE SUBMARINE ZONE 29 

zagging sharply and frequently. I was awake 
again in time to lie cuddled up in my chair and 
watch the dawn come over the sea. It came 
drab and dismal, and soon after the first gray 
light began to make objects discernible most of 
the passengers were on deck, scanning the sea 
anxiously. We were then zigzagging our way 
up the Bay of Biscay, having swung south and 
come up along the coast of Portugal and Spain. 

Soon after breakfast our wireless brought us 
the news that a British freighter had been tor- 
pedoed at dawn by a German submarine, the 
attack taking place about fifty miles from our 
present location. An hour later we were pass- 
ing through waters thickly strewn with bits of 
wreckage, evidently from the ill-fated freighter. 

A little before ten o'clock on the morning of 
this eventful day a smudge of smoke appeared 
on the horizon ahead of us, and a few minutes 
later our ship sent aloft a number of signal- 
flags and broke out the French tricolor at the 
stern. 

The news spread almost instantly in some 
mysterious manner to all parts of the ship, and 
immediately every passenger was crowding 



30 WITH SEEING EYES 

forward to observe the coming of the stranger. 
Suddenly a spar of the floating wreckage shot 
up out of the sea not far from the Espagne, a 
spar so like a periscope that a woman screamed. 
And then we divided our attention between 
the unknown vessel ahead of us and the wreck- 
age, sinister in its silent warning, all about us. 



CHAPTER III 

OUR CONVOY— AND THE SHORES OF FRANCE 

THAT the newcomer was speedy was 
soon demonstrated, for it quickly rose 
above the horizon and bore down upon 
us rapidly. Larger and larger it grew until 
our glasses told us that it was a destroyer, com- 
ing at full speed. 

In what seemed an incredibly short space of 
time the vessel swept past us and a mighty 
shout went up from our decks when we saw the 
newcomer run up the flag of France. Our 
convoy had come at last. 

It was a French destroyer that had come 
racing to meet and guard us during the re- 
mainder of our voyage, one of the speediest 
wasps of the sea, mounting guns that seemed 
amazingly large and heavy for so small a craft. 
Immediately after the destroyer had passed us 
she suddenly came about and followed us at a 

distance of about a quarter of a mile, our 

31 



32 WITH SEEING EYES 

glasses showing us that her men were at the 
guns ready for instant action. 

The decks of the Espagne became a new 
world. The happy laughter of women — 
laughter long stifled by anxiety — rang gayly, 
and the voices of the men carried a new ring of 
joyousness. The destroyer swung back and 
forth across our wake, occasionally speeding 
up opposite us on one side or the other and 
then dropping back again, and as I stood and 
watched it and then noted the floating wreck- 
age of the English freighter, the French flag 
flying from the stern of the giiardian vessel 
took on added beauty in my eyes. 

Steadily we zigzagged our way forward. 
The waters of the Bay of Biscay are peculiarly 
striking in their opalescent coloring, and 
numerous sudden squalls and rainstorms dur- 
ing the day lashed them into scenes of tumultu- 
ous beauty, sent the Espagne and our doughty 
little convoy reeling and plunging, and moist- 
ened our decks with clouds of spray that the 
occasional bursts of sunshine painted with the 
hues of the rainbow. 

At 10:45 we assembled in the grand salon 



OUR CONVOY 33 

for church services conducted by a minister in 
our Y. M. C. A. party. The minister was 
standing with his back to the front of the boat, 
and from where I sat I could look directly past 
him through the front windows of the salon 
and see the crew on duty beside the three-inch 
gmi. The minister had commenced the read- 
ing of the Scripture lesson when I saw the 
gunners suddenly spring to position and begin 
swinging the muzzle of the piece toward a new 
direction. At the same time the 'non-com- 
missioned officer in charge turned and shouted 
something to the officers on the bridge, and 
pointed in the direction in which the gun was 
now being aimed. 

It was a tense moment. Others sitting be- 
side me saw the incident. But none of us 
wished to disturb the service that was proceed- 
ing so calmly under the leadership of the min- 
ister who knew nothing of what was transpir- 
ing out on the gun deck. So we sat with 
clenched hands and waited for the flash of the 
gun that would signal the openmg of the fight 
which seemed to be only a moment in the 
future. 



34 WITH SEEING EYES 

But the shot was not fired. The gunners 
crouched beside their piece ready at the wink 
of an eye to launch a shell, and presently we 
who were witnesses of the affair saw our 
guardian go racing past us toward the spot on 
which our gun was trained. Several minutes 
later the destroyer, having, like a faithful hunt- 
ing-dog, nosed out the suspicious jumble of 
wreckage that had caused the alarm, again 
dropped to the rear, our gun-crew once more 
assumed their positions of watchfulness — and 
I know one man who for about the first time 
during the entire service, thus far, heard the 
words the minister was speaking. I shall never 
forget the verse of the psalm he was reading : 

" In God have I put my trust. I will not he 
afraid what man can do unto me/' 

It Avas 3 : 30 in the afternoon when I saw a 
sailor standing well forward raise his glasses 
and gaze steadily ahead and slightly to the 
left — over the port bow, to use the nautical 
description. Something in his manner con- 
vinced me that it was a matter of prime interest 
that was engaging his attention, so I leveled 
my glasses in the same direction and saw — 



OUR CONVOY 35 

France! 

I asked him if I were not right. He was 
French, but understood my question and 
nodded and smiled. " Oui, oui— France! " he 
replied happily. 

Once more I looked. Yes, there was 
France — merely a penciled line rising out of 
the mists of the sea, but France, nevertheless, 
and the glasses also revealed another vessel 
headed toward us. Again the news spread 
quickly, and again the few phlegmatic ones 
who had preferred their staterooms to the 
kaleidoscopic beauties of the Bay of Biscay 
came hurrjdng to the promenade deck. 

Land — after nine days of rolling sea! A 
squall had been sweeping about us, but now it 
had passed and the clouds were growing 
lighter. Ten happy minutes passed, and then 
the Espagne ran a bundle of bunting to the top 
of the forward mast, and at the pull of a string 
the Glory Flag — the Stars and Stripes — leaped 
out to the breeze. To add to the effectiveness 
of the picture — (though the telling of it may 
smack of the photo-play screen) — just as the 
dear old flag streamed out from the halyard the 



36 WITH SEEING EYES 

sun broke through the clouds and bathed it in 
a warm caress. 

Instantly as the flag was caught by the 
breeze the passengers cheered with great, ring- 
ing shouts of joy and pride and thankfulness, 
the French and passengers of other nationali- 
ties joining in the cheers and salutes. I am 
not ashamed to tell that there was a rush of 
tears to my eyes as I stood on the deck that 
afternoon and saw the wonderful flag of a 
wonderful land — my native land — fluttering 
above me. Just ahead was the land I hoped 
to have an humble part in freeing from a brutal 
invasion — and above me was the flag of the 
land of my birth. 

That afternoon in the Bay of Biscay I sud- 
denly came to realize that I loved this home- 
land of mine more devotedly than I had ever 
dreamed of before I had gone adventuring 
across the sea. 

So far as the Espagne was concerned, there 
was no sentiment connected with the flying 
of the Stars and Stripes. It was simply a 
matter of routine business, the usual signal in- 
dicating that our ship had sailed from an Amer- 



OUR CONVOY 37 

ican port. Now that we were approaching an- 
other port, the rules demanded that this signal 
be hoisted. But with Old Glory floating above 
us at the foremast and the French tricolor 
streaming from the stern halyard we were all 
very happy. 

Presently we found that the vessel headed 
toward us was the pilot-boat, bearing the man 
who was to guide us into the harbor and up the 
river to Bordeaux. Then the Espagne hove 
to and lay awaiting his coming. We were now 
safely within the submarine nets that guarded 
the approach to the Gironde River, and our 
gunners began packing up the shells and cover- 
ing their guns with tarpaulins. The destroj^'er 
ran on past us and also came to anchor. We 
were no longer in need of protection. 

The pilot, putting off in a rowboat from his 
vessel, caught the rope ladder we dropped over 
the side and came clambering up to the 
Espagne's deck. Soon he was on the bridge 
and once more we steamed ahead. Before us 
the breakers were dashing against a green 
coast — a coast of wondrous beauty, it seemed 
to us. In a short time we were close enough to 



38 WITH SEEING EYES 

shore so that we could see the pretty villas on 
the hillsides. 

France was before us. Close at hand was 
land — but over me suddenly swept the realiza- 
tion that it was not my land. However, it was 
the land of friends, and although a great loneli- 
ness came over me at the thought that the sea 
now separated me from my loved ones, a chas- 
tened joy was in my heart as we slowly steamed 
into the mouth of the river and finally came to 
anchor opposite the little town of Royan. 
Here we were to wait until an early morning 
hour when the tide would permit us to proceed 
up the river to Bordeaux. 

Dusk came on, and then a wonderful thing 
happened. The electric deck-lights were 
switched on, for the first time since we left 
New York. As we strolled around the lighted 
decks happiness was everywhere, and through 
the open portholes — another wonder — came the 
sound of laughter and merriment in the state- 
rooms. In those hours the Espagne was the 
abiding-place of light hearts. 

Presently the police-boat came alongside, 
bearing the harbor police and customs officials, 



OUR CONVOY 39 

and then bedlam, pandemonium, chaos, babel — 
and everything else one can think of along those 
lines — broke loose. With the police and cus- 
toms officers were a large number of porters to 
handle the baggage, and for some reason they 
had a hard time getting their boat into the de- 
sired position beside the ship. They would 
start to raise their gangplank to our deck and 
then would pull it back, amid a perfect pande- 
monium of shouts and orders and a wilderness 
of gesticulations. One instant all of the por- 
ters would be rushed to one end of the patrol- 
boat, and the next instant they would be wildly 
herded to another spot; they would shove the 
gangplank forward and then pull it back ; they 
would raise it amid a babel of shouts and 
then lower it with a bedlam of exclamations. 

Leaning over the railing of the promenade 
deck of the Espagne, I looked down on the tur- 
bulent scene and a great wonder began to arise 
in mj^ mind as to how I would ever get along 
in this strange land. 

The gong sounded and we went to dinner 
and while we ate the patrol-boat got its affairs 
straightened out and the officers and porters 



40 WITH SEEING EYES 

swarmed aboard. Aiid then we found that we 
had a strenuous evening ahead of us. 

First the pohce and customs officials must 
dine, and this they did with the deliberation 
characteristic of the French, to whom every 
meal is a ceremony. After they had finished 
the officials proceeded with their respective 
duties. In the grand salon the police estab- 
lished themselves with our passenger list, and 
as our names were called we were ushered be- 
fore them and presented our passports and 
other credentials for their vise. After they 
had stamped and signed them they issued to 
each of us a " Permis de circulation" a landing 
permit. 

In the meantime the porters had things in 
an uproar all over the ship. Some were hoist- 
ing the baggage from the hold and trundling it 
along the port side of the promenade deck, 
where it was stacked in huge piles, while others 
were racing up and down the corridors at the 
beck and call of the customs officers who were 
visiting the staterooms and inspecting the 
cabin baggage. Trunks, suit-cases, traveling- 
bags — everything — had to be dragged out from 



OUR CONVOY' 41 

under berths and opened for examination, after 
which all stateroom baggage except that we 
were to carry was to be taken to the starboard 
side of the promenade deck for checking to 
Paris, or wherever our designation might be. 

On this — the starboard — side of the prome- 
nade deck a desk had been set up for the selling 
of railroad tickets and the checking of the 
baggage, which first was to be weighed on a 
small set of scales similar to those found in any 
country grocery-store in America. These 
scales had been dragged out on deck and put in 
position about twenty feet from the ticket-desk. 

DoA^qi in the corridors and staterooms cus- 
toms officials argued and jabbered (at least it 
sounded like jabbering to those of us who spoke 
no French, just as, I doubt not, our helpless 
questionings and arguments sounded like 
jabberings to them) ; room-stewards, steward- 
esses, porters, officials, and passengers hurried 
up and do^vn the corridors shouting questions 
and pleas — usually unintelligible to the ones 
addressed; porters with trunks on their shoul- 
ders or suit-cases m hands bumped into every- 
body else to the accompaniment of French im- 



42 WITH SEEING EYES 

precations, shouts of warning, and plain, un- 
adorned American swear-words — all with a 
vocal setting of a babel of English, French, 
Italian, and Spanish, a babel whose volume 
rose and fell much as had the waves of the sea 
we had just crossed. 

Everybody American, of course, was in a 
desperate hurry to have his wants attended to 
immediately. During my service abroad — in 
France, in England, in Scotland, in Ireland — 
I discovered that by this trait one might always 
know an American. Despite the fact that a 
perfect swarm of porters had come to us on the 
patrol-boat they were all too few in number 
to meet the desires of the Americans who 
wanted their trunks removed to the weighing- 
station on the promenade deck the instant the 
customs official had put his cabalistic mark on 
the pieces. As a result, porter-hunting be- 
came popular — or perhaps I should say uni- 
versal, rather than popular — and a little later, 
after the supply had been gobbled up by the 
early hunters, -porteY-stealing became a fine art. 

One, perhaps, had succeeded in getting a 
porter to one's stateroom and was engaged in 



OUR CONVOY 43 

issuing directions by means of many gesticula- 
tions with hands and feet as to which pieces 
were to be carried to the deck, when — presto! 
The porter-stealer got in his fine work and the 
first passenger was left standing in the midst 
of a confusion of trunks and bags while the 
porter, yielding to a large tip thrust into his 
hand by the " stealer," darted out of the room 
and followed the highest bidder down the cor- 
ridor. Nor was it unknown that now and then 
some stalwart American, hopeless of making 
himself understood in any other way, would 
boldly reach into a stateroom, seize the porter 
by the arm and drag him to his own stateroom 
by main strength, the porter shrieking '' Un 
minute! Un minute! Un minute! '^ ("One 
minute! ") 

Twice did my roommates and I get porters 
to our room, and twice did we lose them through 
kidnapping or other cause, so at last we decided 
that the three of us ought to be able to shift for 
ourselves and carry our own stuff to the deck. 
This we did. 

But when it came to getting our baggage 
weighed we found a little the worst confusion 



44 WITH SEEING EYES 

we had yet encountered. In all sincerity I af- 
firm that I have learned profoundly to admire 
the French people — but just as sincerely I af- 
firm that their " system " for the baggage- 
weighing— on that voyage, at least — was chaos. 
The small scales referred to were placed about 
the middle of the starboard promenade deck, 
and toward and around these scales hundreds 
of passengers surged from all directions — men 
and women dragging trunks and laden like 
longshoremen with baggage of all sorts — and 
all struggling desperately to get to the scales. 
Some there were who had subdued the frantic 
porters with extra large tips, and as a result the 
clamoring crowd was dotted with these fellows 
pushing small trucks piled high with baggage, 
the porters shrieking at the scales man with 
voices that rose high above the other uproar. 

Women with hats on one ear, perspiration 
streaming down their faces, and hair sadly di- 
sheveled, struggled the same as men, some near 
to tears and others bitterly scornful. Be it 
said to the credit of our country that most 
American men did their best to ameliorate the 
lot of these unhappy women — but most men 



OUR CONVOY 45 

were encumbered with two or more pieces of 
baggage and had shght opportunity for being 
of real service to any one in distress, even 
though their souls may have been filled with 
chivalry. 

And reaching the scales was no sure sign that 
one's troubles were ended. Just as " porter- 
stealing" had been indulged in down in the 
staterooms, so now was " scales-stealing " prac- 
ticed, and in much the same way. If one had 
succeeded in getting his baggage piled on the 
scales it was not uncommon for it to be dumped 
off without weighing b\'^ the scales man who had 
been bought by a larger tip from some one who 
thus succeeded in having his stuff Aveighed 
ahead of his turn — although the question of 
one's " turn " was always rather hazy. Occa- 
sionally one's baggage would be displaced by 
the same " strong-arm " methods used below. 
That is, some double-fisted chap would delib- 
erately crowd forward and dump from the 
scales that which had been piled on them by a 
smaller fellow, the husky one immediately 
putting his own stuff on to be weighed. 

In truth, as I witnessed one or two cases of 



46 WITH SEEING EYES 

this law of the claw and fang, of the triumph 
of brute force over |)hysical weakness, I found 
myself wondering what might have been the 
result had the strong and the weak found them- 
selves occupying an overloaded lifeboat or raft 
on the open sea. 

Fights? No. One was too crowded to 
fight — and, besides, while one was endeavoring 
to black the other fellow's eyes, and possibly 
having his own nose broken, one might with 
the same expenditure of energy succeed in hav- 
ing his baggage weighed. To fight — even to 
win a fight — was nothing! To see the scales- 
arm and weights balancing one's baggage — ah, 
that were joy! 

Occasionally some one with a sense of humor 
would shout a jest that smoothed out many of 
the discomforts of the struggle, and now and 
then a Y. M. C. A. secretary would pipe up 
from the midst of the mass and sing a verse: 

"Pack up your troubles in your old kit-bag 
And smile, smile, smile ! " 

I was thankful for a sense of humor that car- 
ried me in good spirits through that episode. 



OUR CONVOY 47 

In due time I got my baggage weighed, the at- 
tendant shouted and clamored at the clerk at 
the ticket-desk some distance away, until an 
answering shout amiounced that the weight 
had been heard, I fought my way to the ticket- 
clerk, bought my ticket for Paris, paid the 
amount demanded for baggage excess, a des- 
tination slip was pasted on my baggage — and 
I staggered down to my stateroom, exhausted, 
but laughing at the absurdity of it all. And 
for hours after I had reached my room I could 
hear the trampling of feet and confusion of 
voices on the deck above me, where the " Battle 
for the Scales " was still being waged. 

When I opened my eyes in the morning the 
JEspagne was slowly making her way to the 
pier in Bordeaux. A hasty breakfast and we 
were out on deck in time to see the ship tie up. 

At nine o'clock, in a drizzling rain, I made 
my way do^^qi the slippery gangplank. The 
voyage of the Espagne had ended. 

I was standing on French soil. 



CHAPTER IV 

HOW THE FRENCH REGARDED THE TANKS 

WATCHING immigrants huddled in 
groups in New York or Chicago sta- 
tions, staring with wondering eyes 
at the seeming confusion of the new world, I 
have many times laughed at them and perhaps 
have said some thoughtless things about them 
as they stood bewildered by the strangeness of 
the language and scenes and customs with 
which they were surrounded. But never again 
will I do so. 

I made this vow as I stood there, on the pier 
at Bordeaux, France, that rainy December 
morning. I was in a strange land, everything 
about me was strange, the language I heard 
was not my language, and seemingly every- 
thing was confusion. Our little group of 
Y. M. C. A. folks huddled together much as I 
had seen the immigrants do in America, and 

my thoughts flashed to those scenes of the past. 

48 



HOW FRENCH REGARDED YANKS 49 

Of course, a waterfront is never a cheerful, in- 
viting spot at any time, and that one seemed 
less so than any other I had ever visited. The 
river was veiled with mist and the rain fell 
steadilj^ We knew not where to seek shelter — 
and so amid these depressing surromidings we 
looked about us with wondering eyes, gazed 
upon a world new to us, and waited for the 
secretary who was supposed to meet the ship. 

At last he came and we were sent across the 
city in busses to the station where we were to 
take the train for Paris. After reaching the 
railway station I renewed my vow of never 
again laughing in an unkind way at foreigners, 
for the exhibition we gave that morning would 
have drawn a great crowd of jeering, hooting 
people had the scene been Chicago instead of 
Bordeaux and the participants travelers from 
a countiy other than America. 

As our train would not leave for about two 
hours we were disposed to have a bit of look at 
the city. Some of us desired to send cable- 
grams. Result: We obstructed the sidewalks, 
we wrangled, we argued, we talked loudly, we 
pointed, we stood in the middle of the street 



50 WITH SEEING EYES 

and consulted maj)s while we continued to 
wrangle, irrespective of the fact that we were 
blocking traffic and making nuisances of our- 
selves in general. And I beg permission to 
say to you that our group was composed for 
the most part of men and women of affairs and 
proven intelligence, some of them having won 
distinction in our America. I submit that we 
were not a rabble. 

Some have gone to France and written with 
bitter sarcasm of the country, the people, and 
their customs. Thus early in this volume I 
plead for fairness and analysis instead of preju- 
dice and hasty conclusions, and I relate the 
above facts in the hope that they may serve as 
another application of the old parable of the 
beam and the mote. ^layhap there will be 
other pages whereon will be recorded instances 
that point the same moral. 

Our journey from Bordeaux to Paris re- 
quired ten hours of fast traveling. To those 
who had never been abroad, the French train 
itself was a matter of interest, from the small 
locomotive devoid of pilot or bell to the coaches, 
consisting of a number of compartments, each 



HOW FRENCH REGARDED YANKS 51 

seating eight — four facing four. A door opens 
from the compartments into an aisle running 
along one side of the coach, the aisle leading to 
the doors at either end of the coach. In this 
aisle are seats that fold up against the side of 
the car when not in use, but which are there for 
the convenience of those unable to obtain seats 
in the compartments. This description refers 
only to first-class and second-class cars. The 
third-class cars consist of compartments ex- 
tending clear across, with no side-aisle, and 
with doors opening on either side of the com- 
partments, by means of which the passengers 
enter or leave the cars. Thus if you are a 
passenger on a third-class car you are unable 
to leave your compartment between stations, 
for they are not connected by any doors. The 
first and second-class cars have the toilet con- 
veniences usual to American cars, but those 
who travel third-class have a cheerless, isolated 
journey. 

Speaking of railroads, I pause to express my 
uncertainty as to whether there is a locomotive 
m France that has a whistle other than the 
peculiarly slirill ones that caused the Yanks 



52 WITH SEEING EYES 

over there rather contemptuously to dub them 
" peanut whistles." I never heard any other 
while I was there, although one evening months 
after I had landed I walked a mile just for the 
privilege of seeing an American locomotive and 
in the hope that I would hear it emit a good 
old American bellow. I saw the American 
locomotive, but the pesky thing did not whistle. 

Between Bordeaux and Paris our train 
carried a very good diner, with young women 
waiters. An excellent table dfhote dinner was 
served for six francs (about $1.15 at the rate 
of exchange then prevailing). It was very 
difficult to convince the attendants that we did 
not wish wine. In fact, all during my stay in 
France I found cafe, hotel, and dining-car at- 
tendants mystified if I declined wine. 

We traveled through a beautiful country, 
and it was not until late afternoon that the 
fresh, green fields began giving way to a land- 
scape bearing hints of winter. Before dark we 
found ourselves surrounded by snow, and when 
we reached Paris at nine that night the city was 
enveloped in a dismal, chilling fog. 

After reaching my hotel on the Rue de 



HOW FRENCH REGARDED YANKS 53 

Rivoli I decided in spite of my weariness to 
have a little peep at Paris before retiring. 
Going out upon the street, I found only a few 
street-lamps burning here and there beside the 
walks, blue glass being used in the lamps^ so 
that only a dim light would show. 

The question is frequently asked me: " What 
were your first impressions of Paris? " My 
answer is that the outstanding features of 
Paris that most impressed me were the dark- 
ness of the city at night and the universal at- 
mosphere of mourning. That first night I 
was astounded at the lack of light, and on suc- 
ceeding nights as I made mj'^ way about the 
city and studied the situation this impression 
became deeper. Paris was virtuallj'^ in dark- 
ness — a darkness that amazed me. It was 
only another illustration of how one could read 
innumerable times of the war in its various 
phases and yet be very greatly surprised when 
one came face to face with the very facts con- 
cerning which he had so often read. Over and 
over I had read that Paris was dark, through 
fear of air-raids, and yet when I walked the 
streets of the city and saw for myself the dark- 



54 WITH SEEING EYES 

ened conditions I was at first surprised — and 
then I came to realize as never before how easy 
it is to skim a newspaper and how difficult it is 
to visualize the facts therein recorded. 

Had the American people, reading in those 
shadowed days of a war from three to four 
thousand miles away from them, been able to 
visualize the facts as presented by the press, 
perhaps there would have been less adverse 
criticism regarding many things. 

I had read that Paris was dark — but I had 
not truly realized that it was a fact. So, too, 
had I read that Paris had become a city of 
mourning — but I had not visualized the fact. 
Therefore, I was surprised when I walked the 
streets and found them dark, when I gazed 
upon the thronged streets and found the people 
sad. There was no gayety, no laughter — but 
everywhere soldiers of numerous nations, and 
women in mourning. One saw but few women 
^vho were not in mourning, and the show win- 
dows of the large stores were filled with ex- 
hibits of the sombre apparel. The French are 
given to the wearing of these symbols of grief 
more than are our American women, and as 



HOW FRENCH REGARDED YANKS 55 

there was scarcely a woman in Paris — or 
France, for that matter — who had not seen a 
loved one march away to the war never to re- 
turn, the result was a striking — and depress- 
ing — display of these evidences of sorrow. 

During my first days in Paris I was so struck 
hy these facts that I took every opportunity 
for careful observation, and I found the con- 
ditions mentioned to be universal. The holi- 
days were at hand and many soldiers of France 
were with their families or friends in Paris for 
a brief furlough, but in the little groups of men 
and women who passed along the streets there 
was no laughter and no evidence of any spirit 
of gayet}^ It was the same in the hotel par- 
lors, in the dining-rooms, in the cafes — yes, and 
even in the theatres. 

And in those early days of my stay over 
there I began to revise some preconceived no- 
tions of the French, a revision that continued 
the more I traveled over France and the closer 
I observed, studied and analyzed. I came back 
from over there a more ardent and devoted 
American than ever before, because beyond 
the sea I had seen my country tested in every 



56 WITH SEEING EYES 

phase that contributes to the true greatness of 
a nation, and my patriotism had become more 
than a matter of tradition and academics. I 
had seen my country march into the fiery fur- 
nace, I had seen the soul of America in the 
agony of that ordeal as I had never seen it be- 
fore, and I had knelt down before that wonder- 
ful soul with a worship second only to the 
adoration I gave to my God. But the more 
carefully I studied the French, the more I 
came to admire them, and, as in the case of the 
darkness of Paris and the atmosphere of 
mourning, I asked myself what had led to the 
erroneous notions. 

I was finding the French to be a steadfast, 
calm, serious-minded people, heroic without 
ostentation. Of these characteristics I had 
frequently read, but the reading had not im- 
pressed me as deeply as had something else. 
What was it that had formed an opinion op- 
posite to that which my reading should have 
given me? I searched my mental self for the 
answer, and finally — also reluctantly and with 
not a little humiliation — I came to believe that 
it was the " stage Frenchman " as portrayed in 



HOW FRENCH REGARDED YANKS 57 

our American theatres that had so grievously 
misled me. It was another case where visual- 
ization had conquered the printed word. As 
the French had suffered on our stage, so, too, 
have other races suffered — the Jew, the Italian, 
the Irishman, the Englishman, the Scot. 

Of course I found defects in the character- 
istics of the French — judged from my view- 
point, just as they find many flaws m our 
American characteristics — judged from their 
viewpoint. For that matter, I am quite cer- 
tain that they themselves will freely plead 
guilty to numerous imperfections, just as we 
Americans should be ready to confess to many 
flaws. The regret is that America has been 
soundly abused by many foreigners who spent 
but a few months in one or two sections of our 
country, with scant facilities for true analysis — 
just as there are those who have flayed France 
and the French, in spite of the fact that in too 
many instances the criticisms have been based 
on very suj)erficial observation and scant 
study. 

The fact is that during the winter of 1917-18 
the American uniform was not popular in 



58 WITH SEEING EYES 

Paris, and the Yank soldier was on probation 
all over France. And this, too, without fault 
on his part. It was a simple — and, I believe, 
not unnatural — question of viewpoint and 
visualization. May I explain, and in the ex- 
planation depict for you three distinct phases 
of French regard for the American soldier? 
And farther on I shall answer the question con- 
cerning the mental attitude of the soldiers of 
the Allies toward each other. 

Those who were in France at the time know 
that for France the winter of 1917-18 was the 
" Valley Forge winter " of the war. Then it 
was that the gloom was the deepest, hope most 
forlorn, the shadow of defeat the heaviest. It 
was the fourth winter of the war. Can we who 
experienced but one winter of the struggle 
grasp what that means? And with the com- 
ing of the fourth winter the foe was seemingly 
nearer a complete victory than at any previous 
period of the war, not excepting the days of the 
first tremendous drive toward Paris, when the 
capture of that city would not have meant the 
ending of the war. 

Russia had succumbed and was being ex- 



HOW FRENCH REGARDED YANKS 59 

ploited by the foe. A million French soldiers 
were in their graves, and the enemy, exultant 
over the collapse of Russia and the success of 
the intrigues, diplomacy, and plain treachery 
following her downfall, was being tremendously 
strengthened on the western front by troops 
withdrawn from the Russian front. Flushed 
with these triumphs, the morale of the foe was 
at its highest, so far as the French soldiers and 
French populace could learn, while, confronted 
by all of this and the certainty that a tre- 
mendous drive would sooner or later (probably 
at an early date, it was thought) be launched 
by the enemy, the morale of the Allied troops 
and populace was failing. 

And there was the question of America. 
(Remember, now, that I am giving you the 
French view of the situation in the winter of 
1917-18.) America had remained out of a 
war that France, England, and Italy (and 
countless thousands of Americans) considered 
our war as much as it was theirs, and while we 
remained out we had harvested untold millions 
from the warring countries. This fact had 
aroused resentment among the masses of the 



6o WITH SEEING EYES 

people over there. Later there dawned a 
period when the thinking ones came to feel 
that — irrespective of the ethics of the position 
we had maintained before going in — it was for- 
tunate that America had reserved her power 
until the crucial hour. But during the winter 
of 1917-18 there was no prophet to foretell to 
them how mighty was to be the blow America 
would soon strike. 

Now as to the three phases of French regard 
for the American soldier : 

After remaining out of the war for years, 
America had gone in, and France flamed with 
enthusiasm because of our decision. All the 
American newspapers had proclaimed that 
when Uncle Sam once put his hand to the plow 
he never turned back until he had accomplished 
what he set out to do. And there were even a 
few papers that vauntingly printed lurid stories 
of American prowess, all of which were re- 
printed in the Paris papers and were eagerly 
read by the masses of the people over there, 
who became dazzled by some of the intemperate 
articles to such an extent that they immediately 
began to look for this wonderful America to 



HOW FRENCH REGARDED YANKS 6i 

perform some sort of a miracle — ^just what, 
they knew not — and crush the German and 
Austrian armies in a very hrief time. 

Then in July, 1917, the first American 
troops landed m France, and the land of 
Lafayette received them with wild demonstra- 
tions of joy. Nothing was good enough for 
les soldats americaines. Their pathways were 
strewn with flowers, and all possible honors 
were heai^ed upon them. Were not these 
khaki-clad warriors the vanguard of millions 
that the wonderful country across the sea was 
now to pour into the trenches? Vive les sol- 
dats americaines! Vive la General Pershing! 
Vive — everything American. Such was the 
French mind toward America and her soldiers 
when the first contingent landed. 

Daj'^s of anxious waiting followed — eager 
watching for the flood of khaki that was to come 
from across the sea. But the flood gave no 
evidence of rolling toward France. Instead, 
but a slender stream of men and guns and 
bayonets trickled into suffering France, and 
again was it i^roven that " hope deferred 
maketh the heart sick." The summer merged 



62 WITH SEEING EYES 

into autumn, and autumn's days yielded to the 
rigors of winter, and still the tramp of the 
mighty American army was not heard in 
France. " Out there " — the indefinite term 
by which the front was designated — the miser- 
able trenches of the long battle line knew noth- 
ing of American khaki, but, instead, were lined 
with the French horizon blue. True, a small 
detachment or two of American soldiers had 
been sent into the trenches in a quiet sector for 
a brief time, and then had been withdra^^n. 
The holidays came on, and Paris was filled with 
American soldiers who spent their money 
freely, bought the best of everything, gave tre- 
mendous tips that the French j^oilu with his 
five-cents-a-day pay could not emulate, walked 
the streets with a characteristically- American 
independent swing, laughed much, and appar- 
ently refused to worry about the war. 

Paris was well filled with French soldiers, 
too — but these sons of France were wearing 
service chevrons, wound stripes, and croixs de 
guerre. And France's millions were holding 
the trenches those sad winter days. 

France looked at the rollicking American 



HOW FRENCH REGARDED YANKS 63 

money-sj)eiiders and then at her own soldiers — 
grim, hard-fighting, long-suffering, and still 
holding on while waiting for the promised aid 
from the wonderful America whose talkative 
ones had promised so much in such a short 
time. Then France sighed as she looked out 
to sea, looking in vain for the coming of the 
western legions. 

And as the weeks i^assed with no signs of the 
situation improving, France began to cool to- 
ward the American uniform. Remember that 
I am speaking of the masses, not of the in- 
formed leaders, who were compelled to remain 
silent because of the importance of keeping the 
enemy in as much doubt as possible. France 
began to draw back from Americans and to 
treat them with ill-concealed aversion. France 
was heartsore and heartsick. Was America to 
fail her, after all the expectancy and high hopes 
that had been raised by her promises when she 
entered the war? After all, Avas America a 
nation of bluffers, as Germany had so often 
sneered? 

So it was that slowly the pendulum of pub- 
lic regard for the American soldier swung 



64 WITH SEEING EYES 

away from these clear-eyed, laughing stalwarts, 
who went their way unmindful of their declin- 
ing prestige, joking about the war, and never 
loth to explain to any Frenchman the superior- 
ity of everything American. 

The French masses had no conception of the 
tremendous problems that confronted America 
when she entered the war; they had not the 
faintest notion of how we had to begin with the 
very A B C's of preparing a nation to fight. 
Perhaps they had read — yes. But they had 
not visualized the facts, and, therefore, had not 
grasped them. What they did visualize and 
grasp were the conditions I have named 
above. 

Winter dragged its dreary way along, and 
with the coming of earliest spring came anxious 
days, days when the long-looked-for German 
drive was in all minds. America was doing 
better now, and her soldiers were spreading 
over France, with some of them taking over 
so-called quiet sectors. But still France did 
not show signs of softening her judgment 
against the lads from the new world, while the 
Yanks were brimful of confidence as to what 



HOW FRENCH REGARDED YANKS 65 

would happen when America once got into her 
stride. 

And in those days previous to the great 
drive, American soldiers began to express un- 
complimentary opinions as to the fighting 
qualities of the French. Our troops upon tak- 
ing over certain quiet sectors found, in some 
instances, that the French whom they had re- 
lieved had established a sort of " gentlemen's 
agreement " with the Germans, whereby neither 
side would fire on those who might expose 
themselves at odd times, such as when a few 
men might wish to go to a near-by stream to 
wash. Thus it frequently happened that 
French and German soldiers would boldly ex- 
pose themselves while on some such errand as 
that, and on such occasions there was no shoot- 
ing. 

It was a lovely war, thus conducted, but it 
failed — utterly failed — to meet with the ap- 
proval of the Yanks who relieved the French. 
They snorted with disgust when they heard of 
the arrangements — and as they had not entered 
into any such agreement they promptly and 
effectually shot up all German gentlemen who 



66 WITH SEEING EYES 

exposed themselves. They sent word to the foe 
that it was not to be a pink tea, that they had 
come across the ocean for the express purpose 
of licking the Kaiser's army, and that they 
expected to accomplish this little job by kill- 
ing as many Germans as possible at every 
opportunity. 

"Fight, damn you, fight!" was the grim 
challenge they hurled across No Man's Land. 

And when the French learned of this they 
were peeved more than ever with the boys 
from the western hemisphere. They saw in 
the American attitude nothing but foolishness 
due to lack of experience. Thus the breach 
widened. 

March 21st came, and with it the great spring 
offensive on the part of Germany. I will not 
dwell just now on that period, but with that 
drive came the appeal of the Allies for 
America to strain every nerve in rushing men 
to France. America responded, General Per- 
shing placed his army — now growing like 
magic — at the disposal of General Foch, and 
there came a day when the young huskies from 
America were rushed to the most critical point 



HOW FRENCH REGARDED YANKS 67 

of the battle line, where they met the onslaught 
of Germany's best, stopped them, and then 
rallying all of their powers they hurled them- 
selves at the legions in gray and sent them 
staggering, broken and beaten back across the 
Marne. 

A thrill touched every nook of France. 
America had kept the faith! America had come, 
and the laughing, rollicking, money-spending 
boys from over the sea — the youngsters who 
had joked about the war and who had gone into 
battle Avearing flowers in their buttonholes — 
had performed incredible deeds of heroism; 
they had fought and died as they had lived, 
smiling! And they had saved France ! 

Swift as the flash of the telegraph's click tHat 
had carried the wondrous news throughout the 
land and around the world, the pendulum of 
French regard for the American soldier s^vung 
back to adulation, and throughout the weeks 
that followed when the soldiers of the Stars and 
Stripes drove steadily forward until the Hin- 
denberg-Ludendorf war machine was smashed, 
the French lavished their love upon those whom 
we delight to call " Our Boys." 



68 WITH SEEING EYES 

Aiid, too, ill the test of battle, the American 
soldier came to see that his French comrade 
was one of the best fighting men the world has 
ever known. 



CHAPTER V 

CONCERNING FEENCH MORALS 

THE shrill, long-drawn wail of a fire- 
engine siren, a cry of "Air-raid I 
Lights out!" a hotel parlor trans- 
formed in a twinkling from light to dark- 
ness — and I was initiated into my first experi- 
ence of hostilities on land, an attack on Paris 
by German airmen. 

It was only a few nights after I had reached 
Paris, and while I was still awaiting my field 
assignment. Oddly enough, I may remark in 
passing, throughout my stay in France my 
visits to Paris were always made just at the 
time Fritz chose to put over an air-raid. The 
Germans never missed a single one of my brief 
stays in the city. 

For more than a year Paris had not been 
threatened from the air, but this wonderful 
moonlight night soon after my arrival the fire- 
engines were sent speeding through the streets 

69 



70 WITH SEEING EYES 

shrieking a warning of the coming of Zeppelins 
or aeroplanes. We were gathered in the par- 
lors of the Hotel Gibraltar, the official Y. M. 
C. A. hotel in Paris, listening to a lecture by 
one of our number when the more than twelve 
months of monotony broke down. 

Immediately the lights went out — ^and so 
did we. Everybody groped in the sudden 
darkness for hat and coat and then hurried to 
the street. Then began the game of " Look 
Up," a game that became decidedly wearisome 
to us before we had earned our service insignia. 
But that night it was all new and sparkling 
with keenest interest for us. There was not a 
cloud in the sky and the moon was almost at the 
full. Here and there far away from us now 
we could hear the wails of the sirens as the fire- 
engines raced over the city. A moment or two 
after we had reached the street even the dim 
street lights had been extinguished, and Paris 
was as devoid of illumination as a village at 
midnight. Can you visualize New York or 
Chicago at night without a ray of artificial light 
showing? 

A group of us decided to go to the Place de 



CONCERNING FRENCH MORALS 71 

la Concorde — one of the finest public squares 
in the world — where we would have an un- 
obstructed view of events. As we hurried 
along the streets that were lighted only by the 
moon we met but few pedestrians, and they 
were hastening to i^laces of refuge — unless they 
were Americans, in which case they were seek- 
ing some spot where they could see the " show " 
to advantage. We were all so new to the war 
in those days! 

In the Place de la Concorde we found a 
small number of sight seekers, and among them 
were but few French. Remember, they had 
been in the war more than three years. All 
faces were turned upward in eager expectancy. 
We had not long to wait. 

" There they come ! " exclaimed a secretary 
who had been my roommate on the Espagne. 

I looked where he was pointing, and, sure 
enough, high in the heavens a dim light — like 
a large star — was moving rapidly in our direc- 
tion. This was mj'^ first experience, and rather 
queer sensations were mine as I stood staring 
at that Thing, sweeping so swiftly across the 
sky. My heart wasn't " in my throat," and my 



72 WITH SEEING EYES 

knees didn't shake, as I had sometimes thought 
might be the case. I simply gazed, rather 
fascinated by the unusual sight, and wondered 
how long it would be before the first bomb 
would crash down. It was a bit odd, this thing 
of standing in the vast open space in the heart 
of a darkened, waiting city, watching for an 
enemy that was flying through the air to attack. 

Onward swept the faint light in the sky, 
much as if a star had suddenly broken loose and 
was hurtling through space. It was somewhat 
uncanny to me who was entirely unaccustomed 
to seeing lights rushing across the heavens. 

A group of French soldiers stood near me, 
staring upward. I touched one of them on the 
arm and pointed to the moving Thing. He 
looked and immediately replied, " Francais" 
("French"). Perhaps I drew a little freer 
breath then than I had been enjoying. After 
all, even novelty cannot entirely disguise 
danger. The French soldier could speak a 
little English, just enough to give us the in- 
formation that enemy machines or Zeppelins 
carried no lights, and that what we saw was a 
French scout-plane searching for the foe. 



CONCERNING FRENCH MORALS 73 

" Well, I don't know the gentleman scout- 
ing around up there," I replied, " but he's a 
friend of mine. I salute him." And I did. 

I spoke in a spirit of fun, and yet I truly 
felt a profound gratitude to the chap up there 
in the bitter cold of that moonlight night doing 
his best to protect me — or, at least, to protect 
the city of Paris, and that included me. 

In a few moments we saw other lights mov- 
ing swiftly here and there across the sky — one 
here, one over there, one yonder — perhaps half 
a dozen all told. They seemed to have regular 
" beats," for, watching a certain light, we Avould 
see it turn and go back and forth over much 
the same territory (if one can use the term in 
referring to the air) . They were searching for 
the enemy, and I touched my cap to the nervy 
men patrolling the heavens ready to give battle. 

As we stood watching the unusual sight, a 
flaring light burst out in the sky and lingered 
for a moment, hanging there like a huge cylin- 
der of white flame. It was a flare-shell fired 
by one of the defense batteries in the suburbs 
of the city. At first we novices thought a 
plane had caught fire. Other flare-shells were 



74 WITH SEEING EYES 

fired, but the German airmen never reached the 
city. Why they turned back without attack- 
ing, or how they were kept from reaching the 
city is one of the questions for which I was 
never able to learn the answer. 

We watched the patrol-planes and the flare- 
shells for some time, and then an auto sped 
through the streets bearing a bugler who 
sounded a short, lively call on his trumpet. It 
was the "All clear " signal, and in a very few 
minutes the streets began to fill with people 
who had been hiding in the abris (shelters), 
and they laughed and chatted so merrily that I 
was reminded of the evening when the Espagne 
had cast anchor within the protection of the 
submarine nets. The merriment suggested to 
my mind that it was born of relief from a 
nervous strain. 

This was the only alarm that came during 
my first short stay in Paris. The days and 
nights were busy ones for all of us. Confer- 
ences and schools of instruction at headquar- 
ters, No. 12 Rue d'Aguesseau, lectures and 
work of various kinds at night filled our waking 
hours. Our sight-seeing had to come at such 



CONCERNING FRENCH MORALS 75 

odd times as we were able to extract from the 
almost continuous program of duties, but we 
improved all our opportunities in this respect 
and managed to visit some of the world's most 
interesting show-places. And withal I never 
tired of studying the j^eople and their customs. 

One hears much of the wickedness of Paris ; 
it is not uncommon to hear discussions of 
French moral standards, and, usually, the ex- 
pressed opinion does not reflect credit on the 
French. Possibly no other one question has 
been put to me oftener than the query concern- 
ing this proposition. Frankly, I do not feel 
qualified to answer — and I greatly doubt the 
qualifications of many others who have boldly 
hurled the cynic's ban. 

If one were to judge wholly by surface indi- 
cations, I fear the verdict would be that the 
French moral standards are not as high as our 
American standards — ^but I deplore the judg- 
ment that is rendered upon such evidence. It 
cannot be sound. It may, perchance, be a true 
verdict, just as one may shut his eyes and 
throw, and by some freak of chance hit the 
target. 



76 WITH SEEING EYES 

The truth is that I never visited Paris with- 
out finding the streets in the evening literally 
swarming with women and girls soliciting men. 
I have seen as many as twenty-five in a distance 
equivalent to one New York square, although 
Paris is not laid off in squares, as are our Amer- 
ican cities. Most of these street-walkers were 
young, and all were busily accosting soldiers. 
If the man accosted shook his head or even 
ignored the advances the girls would leave him 
instantly and seek another victim. There was 
no " rough work," as persistent and insistent 
advances would be called in our coimtry, and 
no one paid the slightest attention to the 
maneuvers — except Americans, to whom such 
boldness was most extraordinary. In America 
the police would have filled patrol-wagons with 
the creatures, but over there the police gave 
not the slightest heed, even though the girls of 
the street frequently elbowed the officers in 
reaching their intended prey. And this, too, 
on the most prominent streets — not in a " red 
light " district. 

Shocking? I grant it. But what does it 
prove? Perhaps it proves that the moral 



CONCERNING FRENCH MORALS 77 

standard over there is not the equal of ours, in- 
asmuch as the French give this practice no 
heed, while in America we call the patrol- 
wagons. Perhaps it does not. I am not sure 
as to what it proves beyond the fact that they 
have a viewpoint on that problem that is dif- 
ferent from ours. They openly allow what we 
secretly permit, but that this proves them to 
have a lower moral standard than that of which 
we boast I am not ready to admit. 

During all of my stay in France I found the 
people to be very frank in their attitude toward 
many things that we Americans are accus- 
tomed to camouflage, and I found them just as 
puzzled over our point of view as we were at 
theirs. I am not now referring to the sex 
question alone, but to other matters, also, that 
have to do with phases of what, as a bit of 
euphemism, I have heard referred to rather 
gingerly as " natural laws." I am quite sure 
that the French no more understand our atti- 
tude of pretense than we do their mental 
honesty. They are apt to discuss without em- 
barrassment that which we remark in whispers 
or diffidently confide to our family physician. 



78 WITH SEEING EYES 

If you care to know it, I much prefer our 
American attitude — and yet I am honest 
enough to insist that it does not prove anything 
immoral against the French. In fact, I heard 
many Americans in France — ministers, (even 
bishops), university professors, men of large 
affairs — say on more than one occasion, "After 
all, is riot the French viewpoint the more sen- 
sible one? Why not be honest? " 

True it is that the returning millions in 
khaki will relate to American ears many tales 
that will tend to prove the low moral standard 
of the French, but, I ask you, what tales could 
three millions of French soldiers tell upon their 
return home if they had spent from one to two 
years in a war-torn America — where we are 
less honest on those questions than are the 
French? 

I have not studied statistics on the question — 
if there are any of the grisly things — and I do 
not pretend either to acquit or condemn the 
people of France on the charge so frequently 
made against them in this country, but my an- 
swer to the question concerning their moral 
standards is that so far as I am concerned, my 



CONCERNING FRENCH MORALS 79 

observation and study revealed many things 
that were unusual to my Americanized notions, 
but nothing that, being analyzed, ever failed to 
raise in my mind the old proposition of the 
beam and the mote. 

Referring to my statement that the police- 
men did not interfere with the street-walkers, 
I might add that the Paris officers seemed to 
have a different conception of their duties and 
importance than that which the majority of the 
police in our large cities of America hug to 
their hearts, though America is witnessing an 
improvement in this respect. Over there they 
are a quiet, gentlemanly lot. I made it my 
business to observe them a number of times 
when conditions were rather vexing, and never 
did I hear one of them speak a loud word, nor 
did I ever see one of them browbeat or roughly 
use any one. Nevertheless they handled the 
situations effectively. Wlien I consider how 
our New York and Chicago policemen are 
usually bellowing at some one or seizing a luck- 
less wight by the arm and slamming him this 
way or that, I find myself very much i^leased 
with the Paris police. 



8o WITH SEEING EYES 

One hears much of the courtesy of the 
French, and it is a tribute they well deserve. 
And yet, I found them somewhat inconsistent 
in that respect. I never saw an instance where 
they were not seemingly — and I believe gen- 
uinely — ^glad to go out of their way to direct 
one to his destination, happy to do their utmost 
in helping out in a struggle with the langxiage, 
or to render almost any service one can imagine. 
Always they were most considerate and polite 
when we blundered terribly in our efforts to 
speak French — courteous and patient where I 
fear most Americans would have laughed had 
the cases been reversed, not that the American 
would intentionally offend, but because the 
average American lacks that indescribable 
innate sense of courtesy that is the heritage of 
the average Frenchman, no matter how lowly 
his birth. But while all of this is true, be it 
recorded that I never saw a Frenchman, or his 
sister or his cousin or his aunt, who would hesi- 
tate in the least to crowd in front of you 
while you were inspecting a show window. 
They will shoulder you aside very ungently, 
step on your toes, and do other things 



CONCERNING FRENCH MORALS 8i 

equally rude without the slightest evidence of 
being aware of their discourtesy. Only the 
most ignorant or brutal American would do 
this. 

How do I explain it? I don't. 

One visiting Paris for the first time must in- 
evitably be surprised at the comparatively few 
people there who speak English. So close to 
England and thronged with English tourists 
for countless years, one would expect to find 
the English language no mystery to them, and 
especially in the business places. For dis- 
illusionment on this point I refer the reader to 
any American who has gone joyously and 
hopefully into the stores in whose show win- 
dows were signs, " English Spoken." Usually, 
tlie English lexicon consists of very poor at- 
tempts at "Good-morning," "No," "Yes," 
followed by a flood of French. Of course, the 
large stores have interpreters. 

Taxi fare is so ridiculously cheap as com- 
l^ared with the tariff in America that the aver- 
age Yank upon discovering the fact promptly 
entered upon a taxi debauch. But woe unto 
him who failed to understand that every taxi 



82 WITH SEEING EYES 

driver expected his pourboire with his fare. 
'' Pourboire " is the French word for " tip," 
and is pronounced " poor-bwar," with the 
" r's " very indistinct. The word sounds to 
American ears so much like " poor boy " that it 
is very often thus pronounced by careless 
linguists from this side of the sea. And, be- 
sides, " poor boy " is so significant of the mean- 
ing! The pourboire is usually figured at ten 
per cent of the fare, and the driver demands his 
tip just as insistently as he demands his fare. 
I never saw the question tested, but I am in- 
clined to believe that the police would back up 
his demand for pourboire. 

In fact, the pourboire occupies a very promi- 
nent place in all of one's movements over there, 
even more so than in our America, impossible 
as this statement may seem to travelers in this 
country. Even the ushers in the " movie " 
theatres over there must be given a pourboire. 
They lead the patron to his seat and then stand 
and hold the flashlight full on him until ten, 
fifteen or twenty centimes (two, three, or four 
cents ) are handed over. Then there is a whis- 
pered, ''Merci;' ("Thanks") that is little 



CONCERNING FRENCH MORALS 83 

more than a sibilation and one is left to enjoy 
the triumphs of the hero. 

There are very few surface street-cars in 
Paris, the transportation consisting of auto- 
busses, taxis, and the subways. The subways 
are excellent in their plan and their service. 
There are no express trains as in our American 
subways, nor do the guards call any stations. 
Perhaps one might wish for the express 
trains — but who ever understood a station 
name as called by a subway guard in America? 
So the absence of this unintelligible growl 
brings no pang to the American traveler on the 
Paris subways. The cars are entered by doors 
in the middle of the car, not at the ends. Be- 
side each door is a list of stations, printed in 
large, plain type, in their proper order, and in 
the tunnel near each station, and also on the 
platform of the station are large signs bearing 
the name of that station, so that it is a per- 
fectly easy matter for one to consult the list 
by the door and determine just how many 
stops there are before he reaches his desti- 
nation, and then the signs in the tunnels and 
on the platforms will tell him when he 



84 WITH SEEING EYES 

is approaching his station and when he has 
reached it. 

If it is necessary for one to change cars and 
take a different branch of the subway, he can 
determine his route, where to change, etc., by 
consulting maps on the inside of the cars with 
the routes plainly marked thereon, and after he 
reaches the changing point he will find large 
maps on the walls with all routes and stations 
plainly marked, and beside the maps and at 
every turning point in his change to the other 
branch large arrows over lists of stations will 
direct him to his proper platform. If one can 
read one cannot make a mistake in reaching 
his destination. 

That first period in Paris was filled with 
interest, and each night before giving myself 
up to sleep I sat down to the folding typewriter 
that I carried with me throughout my wander- 
ings overseas and faithfully recorded in my 
loose-leaf diary the results of the day's experi- 
ences and study. 

Thus sped the days until I was ordered into 
the field. I had been before the chief secretary 
for conference and had been assigned to what 



CONCERNING FRENCH MORALS 85 

was then the farthest front American Y. M. 
C. A. hut in France. 

So there came a night when I packed my 
field kit, placed my trunk in storage, said good- 
bye to Paris friends, and was ready for the 
morrow's start toward the battle lines. A sec- 
retary from headquarters who was in touch 
with the different hut locations dropped in to 
chat a while before retiring. I told him of my 
assignment. He looked at me solemnly for a 
moment. 

" That's a pretty * hot ' post," he repHeH. 
" The Germans bomb it every night." He 
arose to go, and put out his hand. " Best of 
luck!" 

" Thank you," I answered. " You're the 
original Cheerful Cherub." 



CHAPTER VI 

THE BILLETING OFFICER 

AT noon the next day I changed cars at 
Chaumont, the headquarters of Gen- 
eral Pershing, and availed myself of 
the opportunity of visiting the nerve-center of 
the American army in France. 

General Pershing lived in a delightful old 
chateau at the edge of the town, and still farther 
out were his official headquarters, an ancient 
French artillery barracks surrounded by the 
usual stone wall. As I rambled around in the 
quadrangle I heard the purr of an automobile 
motor and an instant later every soldier near 
snapped to attention. I glanced around and 
saw a limousine with the stars of General 
Pershing's rank upon the windshield glide past, 
and the gray-moustached commander-in-chief 
of the boys from the new world was sitting with 
his face close to the window. 

Back at the railway station I found two or 
^86 



THE BILLETING OFFICER 87 

three companies of French mfantry in heavy 
marching order waiting to take the same train 
that was to bear me on the next stage of my 
journey. It was bitter cold, but apparently 
they did not mind it, as they stood or sat about, 
singing snatches of song and smoking ciga- 
rettes. 

Between Paris and Chaumont the roadbed 
had been pretty good, and the train had been a 
comfortable one, but beyond Chaumont the 
branch-line train of uncomfortable cars jolted 
and swayed and jogged slowly, with long waits 
at different points, one of these waits being to 
pennit a troop-train of French artillery to pull 
out ahead of us. Then we would bump for- 
ward again in the rapidly deepening gloom. 
Only the dimmest of blue-shaded lights were 
permitted in the cars, and there was a total ab- 
sence of heat, so we wrapped our blankets 
about us (there were two other secretaries go- 
ing part of the way with me) , stared out at the 
snow-blanketed world, and each thought of the 
warmth and light and cheer of a home across 
the sea. What were they doing right now, back 
there beyond that rolling ocean? Sleeping, if 



88 WITH SEEING EYES 

siclaiess had not laid its hand upon them, for it 
was now long after six o'clock and that meant 
after midnight at home. 

It grew colder, and the labored puffing of 
the engine indicated that we were toiling up 
grade. A French officer came to the door of 
our compartment and spoke a few words, and 
then, peering closer in the gloom, he saw our 
campaign hats and recognized his mistake in 
nationality. Checking his speech, he exclaimed, 
" Pardon, Messieurs! " touched his brilliantly- 
braided cap in salute and turned away. 
Through the deep shadows I saw a wound 
stripe on his sleeve, and the faint light glinted 
dully on the croix de guerre upon his breast. 

A long, shrill whistle from the locomotive 
and we began to hear activity in the side aisle, 
French officers calling one to another. We 
were coming into Neuf chateau, where I was to 
spend the night before going on to my field 
station. 

We alighted from the dark cars at an equally 
gloomy station, where American military po- 
lice inspected our traveling permits, after 
which we were directed up the street to the 



THE BILLETING OFFICER 89 

Hotel Providence. Later I was to learn that 
" Providence " is a favorite name for hotels in 
France, much, I suppose, as " Grand " is in 
America. I have never seen any particular 
significance attached to either name. 

Shall I ever forget the room to which I was 
shown that night? Not while any thought of 
the great war clings to my memory. Madame, 
the proprietress, summoned Marie, the wooden- 
shoed maid, handed her a key and spoke one 
word, " Vingt" (twenty). Marie murmured, 
" Qui, oui," in a frightened tone, seized a can- 
dle, opened a door and plunged into a void of 
darkness and cold and started her clattering 
way up two flights of stairs, followed by me, 
lugging my heavy field pack. Then down a 
long halhvay she went, the candle giving such a 
feeble light that I could scarcely see the girl, 
and I had the odd feeling that I was following 
a sputtering, spooky light that bobbed through 
space and was accompanied by a heavy clatter- 
ing from ghostly feet. 

Unlocking the door to No. 20, she placed 
the candle on a table and clattered away with- 
out a word. I entered, raised the candle above 



90 WITH SEEING EYES 

my head and looked about me. The floor was 
bare, there was one rickety chah', a dirty, de- 
crepit stand, a wash-bowl thick with dust, a 
pitcher broken in two near its middle and con- 
taining no water, a ramshackle bed, and a cot. 
The one window in the room was heavily coated 
with frost. The cold bit me to the bones. I 
took the half -pitcher and, holding the candle 
above my head, went prowling through the 
halls in search of a water-faucet. 

I came to a door bearing a sign indicating 
that I had found that for which I was search- 
ing. Entering, I found that there was a water- 
faucet in the room, but the faucet was frozen, 
and the bowl of the sanitary was full of ice. I 
gave it up, returned to my room, blew out the 
candle and made my way down to the office by 
the aid of my electric flashlight, after locking 
the door with the ponderous key. I am sure 
that one of the vivid memories that every trav- 
eler will bring back from France will be of the 
huge keys they use over there. I have seen 
some almost large enough to be used as 
weapons. 

Down in the office a companion who was to 



THE BILLETING OFFICER 91 

share No. 20 with me was awaiting my return. 
To his inquiries as to what kind of a room we 
had, I replied, " ' There is one glory of the 
sun, and another glory of the moon, and an- 
other glory of the stars ' — and still another 
glory of the Hotel Providence. We have 
it." 

I rejoiced in the hearty " Hal Ha! Ha! " 
with which he responded, for it revealed a sense 
of humor. I knew he would have need of it. 
The office was lighted by one oil lamp, the 
chimney of which was well blackened by smoke. 
In the center of the room was a small stove in 
which a feeble fire was burning, and about 
which French and American soldiers were clus- 
tered, each trying to get a foot or a hand within 
reach of what little heat there was. (At that 
time coal cost from $75 to $90 a ton.) There 
was no conversation. They simply stood and 
smoked in silence, broken only by the explosion 
of laughter by my friend. But even this burst 
of merriment did not create any commotion. 
A few turned and looked toward him, but most 
of the men gave no heed and continued to 
smoke in silence, their eyes fixed on space. 



92 WITH SEEING EYES 

" Cheerful place, isn't it? " whispered my 
companion. " Let's go eat." 

We found our way into the long dining- 
room, and this, too, was crowded with soldiers, 
fighting men of five nations — French, Ameri- 
cans, British, Algerians, and Italians — being 
gathered about the tables that filled every 
available foot of the room. And here, also, 
silence reigned. The room was lighted (if such 
a term can be used to describe the faint illu- 
mination) by an oil lamp at either end of the 
place, and the air was thick with the fumes of 
wine and tobacco smoke. 

Only an occasional mutter of conversation 
was heard. For the most part the soldiers ate 
and drank and smoked in silence, staring 
gloomily at their plates or at nothing in par- 
ticular. Apparently each man was busy with 
his own thoughts. 

In the course of time another sabot-clad 
serving-maid placed a bottle of the cheap red 
wine in front of each of us without its having 
been ordered and then turned away without a 
word to bring our food. The wine was in- 
cluded in the price of the dinner, and it had 



THE BILLETING OFFICER 93 

not occurred to the waitress that we might not 
care for it. To my surprise it was an excellent 
dinner, served in many courses, and with fre- 
quent changes of jjlates, as is the French way. 
For the meal we j)aid five francs, a little less 
than a dollar. 

While we were eating there was a bit of 
bustle as two American military police came in, 
wrapped in mufflers and the helmets that every 
mother, sister, wife and sweetheart in America 
was knitting in those days. They examined 
the j)asses of all American enlisted men and 
then cautioned the soldiers not to be caught in 
the place after eight-thirty. The response was 
usually a nod or a muttered growl. 

" If I were starting out to shoot happy men 
I'd never snap a cap at this crowd," observed 
my companion as we arose and started for room 
No. 20. 

He was a son of the Southland, unaccus- 
tomed to severe cold, and as he followed my 
flashlight up the two flights of stairs, down the 
hallwaj^ and into our abiding-place for the night 
his teeth chattered and whenever he spoke it 
was with a quick intake of the breath. The bed 



94 WITH SEEING EYES 

was not large enough for two, and as I was 
from the North, I gave him the bed while I 
bunked on the crazy old cot. Instead of un- 
dressing, we each put on additional clothing, 
including one of the knitted helmets, and 
turned in. 

The building cracked and popped as winter's 
grip tightened; outside we heard a bugle 
sounding tattoo, the notes spluttering in a 
queer way as if they were freezing as they 
leaped from the trumpet. 

Breakfast consisted of a vile concoction al- 
leged to be coffee served in a cracked soup-bowl 
without sugar or cream, dark war bread with- 
out butter, and a wee bit of some nondescript 
confiture, the French name for preserves or 
sweets of any kind. Substitute chocolate for 
the coffee and add butter to the menu and you 
Kave the typical French breakfast at all times. 
Always there is confiture, although oftentimes 
it would defy analysis or classification. Con- 
fiture is like charity. It covers a multitude of 
sins. 

We ate off the writing-table in the office, 
with our backs to the aged stove. The windows 



THE BILLETING OFFICER 95 

were so heavily coated with frost that we could 
not see out, and outside the fifing of the truck 
wheels on the snow emphasized the chill of the 
room. 

Going outside, I saw a small detachment of 
American infantry marching by, shrapnel hel- 
meted and bundled in scarfs. Closely follow- 
ing them was a smoking field kitchen — or 
" soup cannon," as they were called — drawn 
by a mule that looked decidedly homesick for 
old Missouri. 

Do^vn at the " Y " hut I found a number 
of American soldiers clustered about the 
stoves — their only place of comfort in that land 
of suffering. And there, too, I met " Billy " 
Levere, the secretary in charge of the hut, a 
man whom I was to know very intimately and 
admire sincerely in months to come. It is 
doubtful if any other hut in all of France be- 
came so famous for its good cheer and genuine 
hospitality. It seemed that by spring every 
Yank in the " Zone of Advance " either knew 
or had heard of "Billy" Levere, "the John 
Bunny of the Y. M. C. A." Especially did 
the boys of the Twenty-sixth (New England) 



96 WITH SEEING EYES 

Division come to know and like hiin, for he 
served with them more than with any other 
division and gave himself unsparingly to their 
interests. Large of frame and big of heart, 
radiating good humor wherever he moved, his 
fame spread until Sir Arthur Yap, head of the 
British Y. M. C. A., visited " Billy's " hut and 
invited him to make a tour of the British camps 
in England for the purpose of spreading his 
celebrated brand of cheer. 

" Where are you headed for? " asked Levere, 
when I introduced myself. And then when I 
had told him I received the usual remark that 
the name of my post always drew: " Pretty 
' hot ' up there. Better take your shrapnel um- 
brella with you." 

Whitley, my companion from Paris who 
had shared 'No. 20 with me, and who had been 
assigned to " Billy's " hut, smiled broadly, for 
he had heard me receive the same information 
so often by this time that it was becoming 
laughable. We walked over to a stove, and one 
of the soldiers cracked a jest with " Billy," 
who turned and said to me: 

" Here's a man from your camp." Then to 



THE BILLETING OFFICER 97 

the soldier: " Son, this is Mr. Kramer, who is 
going up to your outfit." 

The soldier arose and shook hands with me 
cordially. 

" Maybe you'll like it uj) there," he said. 
" Fritz does, for he was still bombing the place 
when I left there early this morning." 

Whitley shrieked. 

By the middle of the forenoon the camione^te 
that was to bear me on the last stage of my 
journey was ready, and we buzzed away in the 
bright sunshine that was struggling to moder- 
ate the temperature. I was accompanied by 
the divisional secretary and an English driver 
with a cockney accent that baffled me almost 
as much as did the French. On that drive I 
mentally blessed the friends who had presented 
me Avith knitted stuff — sleeveless sweater, hel- 
met, Avristlets, and scarf. 

We passed columns of French infantry and 
machine-gun detachments marching to the 
front, the moustaches of the men heavy with 
their frozen breath. And on that drive I saw 
my first German soldier — a prisoner plodding 
along beside the water-cart, under guard. The 



98 WITH SEEING EYES 

villages through which we passed were filled 
with French soldiers, dozens of field-guns be- 
ing parked along the narrow, crooked streets. 
The men were billeted in stables and sheds of 
various kinds. In another village we met a bil- 
leting detail of French soldiers visiting the dif- 
ferent houses and arranging for quarters for 
troops who were to arrive — probably those 
whom we had passed on the road. 

Rejoice, ye blessed America, that no billeting 
officers came nigh your homes ! 

A knock at the door, and an officer accom- 
panied by his orderly with note-book in hand, 
greets you. How many rooms in your home? 
How many members are there of your family? 
" Please show us your stable, and your cellar, 
if you have one." 

" Two officers will occupy this room, two 
more that room, ten men will be billeted in your 
haymow, six horses will be given stable room; 
your cellar will be expected to shelter eight 
people in case of raid or bombardment." 

" But, Monsieur, we do not wish to have 
strange officers in our rooms ; we will be much 
embarrassed if " 



THE BILLETING OFFICER 99 

" Sh-h-h ! They will arrive at sundown. Be 
ready." 

And over the door goes a billeting sign, to 
remain there probably during the war, stating 
how many officers, enlisted men, and horses can 
be accommodated on the premises, and how 
many (if any) can find reasonable abri (shel- 
ter) in the cellar or elsewhere about the place 
in case of air-raid or artillery bombardment. 

This is the sort of thing that France knew 
for more than four years. And not always 
were the unwelcome sojourners in their homes 
men of their own race, even. There were Eng- 
lishmen, Americans, Italians, sometimes Bel- 
gians, Russians, and occasionally Algerians 
and Indo-Chinese. 

These Avere occupying rooms in French 
homes, crowded into French haylofts and 
sheds; these were everywhere about the prem- 
ises, everywhere about the village, their trucks 
and cannon lining the streets; these were the 
throngs with which French daughters and 
young sons were surrounded, among which 
they must make their way when darkness 
brooded unrelieved by a single ray of light. 



loo WITH SEEING EYES 

Count your blessings, happy America, and 
pray to your God that no act of injustice 
or foolishness on the part of your leaders will 
ever bring to you the like of the four years of 
shadow through which France staggered 
grimly and heroically ! 

A punctured tire detained us in the village 
where the billeting officer was paying his un- 
welcome visits, and while our cockney driver 
worked at the repairing I watched the lieuten- 
ant and his orderly as they went from house to 
house, inspecting, commandeering, turning of- 
ficially deaf (though perhaps privately sympa- 
thetic) ears to the expostulations and en- 
treaties. 

" Cest la guerre! " (" It is war! ") I heard 
the officer reply to one woman who was pouring 
forth a flood of what I judged to be pleadings 
that her home be spared from invasion. 

" Cest la guerre! " I thought of my own 
home, of my own town, so far removed from all 
of this. Overhead an aeroplane droned its way 
across the wintry sky; far to the southward 
something was flashing in the sunlight — the 
bayonets and accoutrements of the advancing 



THE BILLETING OFFICER loi 

column now winding its way over a hilltop. It 
is war! A young girl with the bloom of bud- 
ding womanliood in her cheeks came along the 
street and I saw her suddenly pause and stare 
at the dark splotch on the distant hilltop, a 
splotch that swayed and poured forward 
slowly, outlined sharply bj^ the snowy white- 
ness of the landscape in which the scene was 
framed, an undulating something that gave 
forth glints as the sun touched it here and there. 
Then she saw the lieutenant and his orderly 
come out of a house and tack something over 
the doorway. Instantly she started back to- 
ward her home, turning her head occasionally 
to glance at the oncoming column of men. 

" C'est la guerre! " I could not repress a 
sigh. 

Again we sped forward, and an hour later 
we were making our way through the village 
where I was to be stationed. The streets were 
full of French artillery, an American dispatch 
rider flashed by on a motorcycle, a truck train 
of Madagascars jammed the road ahead of us 
and then swung off to one side and halted ; our 
camionette slowly purred its way through the 



I02 



WITH SEEING EYES 



maze of war's impedimenta mitil at last the 
driver drew up in front of a long, low hut. 

I dismounted and started toward the hut. 
As I did so a deep, sullen " Boo-o-o-m! " came 
rolling toward me, like the muttering of sum- 
mer thunder. This was followed immediately 
by another — and many others. 

For the first time I was hearing the resentful 
voices of the guns. At last 1 was " in the field. " 



OF 



rl* 



c? 



2 



6 



4 



ABRl 




Feench Billeting Sign 
Boards 9x15 inches marked in this way were tacked over the 
doors of homes in French villages to indicate the number of officers, 
men, and horses that were to be provided for at that location, and 
the number of people who could find shelter there — in a cellar, 
probably — in case of air-raid or bombardment. 
"OF." means "Officers." 

" H," means "hommes," the French word for "men." 
" Cx." means "chevaux," the French word for "horses." 
"Abri" means "shelter." Note that the "15" under the 
word, " Abri," does not have any relation to the other figures. It 
is not intended as a total of the other figures, as many suppose 
upon first seeing the sign.t 



CHAPTER VII 

THE UNSUNG SONG 

AT that time three American aero squad- 
rons — the Eighty-eighth, the Eighty- 
ninth, and the Ninetieth — ^were sta- 
tioned there, and some of the most pleasant 
recollections of my life are of the weeks and 
months I spent with these men. 

I was fortmiate enough to secure, with the 
aid of the American " town major," a room in 
a home on the Rue Alexander III. For this 
room I paid one franc (about nineteen cents) 
a day, and in addition I paid twenty francs a 
month for " service," that is, for the care of the 
room. I was to furnish my own wood for heat- 
ing and my own oil for the lamp, which Ma- 
dame was to provide. It was a very good 
room, a massive bed, an abundance of covers 
topped with the usual " hickey," as the Ameri- 
can soldiers usually called the tick filled with 

do^vn and feathers that graced nearly every 

103 



I04 WITH SEEING EYES 

bed I saw in France. This half-tick extended 
from the foot of the bed halfway to the pillow. 
The American soldiers always said that it was 
a French precaution against anybody getting 
" cold feet." 

The first night I spent there I sank to sleep 
fully expecting to be raided before morning, 
so much had I heard about this being a favorite 
bombing territory for Fritz. But the night 
was nice and dark and cloudy, so it passed 
without alarm, and I was awakened in the 
morning by a rub-a-dub-dub under my win- 
dow. I pulled aside the heavy curtains, opened 
the still heavier shutters and peeked out. It 
was the town crier passing along the street, 
beating his drum and then shouting his an- 
nouncements. He would beat a few rub-a- 
dub-dubs, pause and cry some news or procla- 
mations, then more thumping on the drum, fol- 
lowed by more announcements. 

When I began my duties in the hut I discov- 
ered that I had more French soldiers (artil- 
lerymen) than I had Americans. IMy instruc- 
tions, based on orders issued by the French 
Government, were that canteen supplies must 



THE UNSUNG SONG 105 

not be sold to French soldiers. But in Paris I 
had been told that everything was to be in my 
hands, that in this out-of-the-way place I would 
be somewhat cut off from headquarters and 
must decide questions for myself, so I imme- 
diately ruled that all soldiers looked alike to 
me, so long as they were fighting for the Allied 
cause. Never a solddt Francais was turned 
away from the canteen counter in that hut. 

They were wonderful days and nights up 
there, with the thunder of the guns in our ears 
hourly and the crashing of bombs about us a 
commonplace — for as the weeks went by I 
learned that there was much truth in what I 
had been told concerning the post having some- 
thing of a fascination for the enemy airmen. It 
was destined to be an important supply station 
for the air service, hangars, barracks, machine- 
shops, etc., were being erected near the village, 
and close at hand was a British and French 
flying field, from which raids were being con- 
tinually made on Metz and Mannheim and 
other important enemy points. 

The result was that the whirr of motors was 
heard above us constantly, sometimes friend. 



io6 WITH SEEING EYES 

sometimes foe — oftentimes both. The village, 
the British and French hangars, and even the 
" Y " hut bore scars of the German airmen's 
attacks. So regular were these raids that the 
American soldiers in the camp composed a 
little song which became more or less of a 
favorite : 

** Bombed last night, 
Bombed the night before — 
We 're going to be bombed to-night 
As we 've never been bombed before. 
When we are bombed 
We're as scared as we can be — 
They can bomb the whole damned army 
If 

THEY 

don't 

BOMB 

meI 
Chorus: 
''They're over ns, 
They 're over us, 
One little cave for four of us^ — 
But thank the Lord there are no more of us. 
When we are bombed 
We're as scared as we can be — 
They can bomb the whole damned army 
If 

THEY 

don't 

BOMB 

me!'* 



THE UNSUNG SONG 107 

This highly descriptive ditty was first suiig 
at an entertainment given by the soldiers them- 
selves in the " Y " hut on Christmas night and 
took the camp by storm. 

The French soldiers I found to be splendid 
fellows, worn by their more than three years of 
fighting, but still courageous and cheerful. 
One of the facts that my first experience at the 
front impressed upon me was that the nearer 
the front oiie got the less gloom and discour- 
agement one found. In Paris one was sin'- 
rounded bj^ pessimism. Out here where the 
guns and bombs were busy one found optimism 
and an everything's-all-right spirit. 

]\Iany of these men in horizon blue were 
wearing the croioj de guerre, some were con- 
valescing from wounds, but all were readj'' to 
do their part in making things happj^ for every- 
body. We had an old, battered piano that was 
not unacquainted with shrapnel, and this the 
French loved to play while a rousing chorus 
sang " Quancl Wladelon " or " Tlie Marseil- 
laise.'' And the louder the guns boomed the 
louder they sang. 

A number of German prisoners were worked 



io8 WITH SEEING EYES 

daily in the village, digging trenches for water 
mains, some of them also being emj^loyed at 
the little sawmill where trench timbers were 
being turned out. 

I have frequently been asked if I saw many 
German prisoners, how they were treated, how 
they appeared physically, what was their age, 
how they seemed to " take " their imprison- 
ment, etc. My answer is that while I was in 
France I was up and down a great many miles 
of fighting front, I saw many hundreds of Ger- 
man j)risoners, and so far as I could judge 
ninety -nine out of every one hundred appeared 
to be glad they were German lorisoners. 

These that were working in the little village 
where I was first stationed seemed to me to 
SAving their picks and wield their shovels with 
increased relish the louder the guns thundered 
" out there." I never saw a German prisoner 
who appeared weak or ill-fed, and it would take 
very strong testimony to convince me that any 
of them were ill-treated or poorly nourished. 
They were warmly clothed from their feet to 
their head, on each man's back being painted in 
large letters, " P. G.," meaning " prisoner de 



THE UNSUNG SONG 109 

la guerre f (prisoner of war). As to age, I 
could not see where they differed much from 
our oAvn men. Oftentimes some one would 
I)oint out a German prisoner to me and say, 
" See, he is only a boy," or, " Why, that boche 
is white-haired." And I would nearly always 
be able to stand where I was and point to an 
American soldier who was a mere boy, or to one 
whose hair was like snow. 

Also, I never saw a camp of German 
prisoners in danger of bombs from German 
aeroplanes if the raiders dropped bombs where 
they had a right — shall I say a " warful " 
right? — to drop them. Germany cannot ac- 
cuse the Allies of unduly exposing their jpris- 
oners. 

During my rambles in France I met many 
German prisoners who told me they lived in 
Chicago, or Milwaukee, some from New York, 
one from Omaha. These all told me that they 
hoped the Allies would win, and that after the 
war they wanted to return to America to live. 
As to their expressed hopes that Germany 
would be defeated I offer no comment. The 
reader may decide for himself how sincere were 



no WITH SEEING EYES 

these declarations — and also as to the warmth 
of welcome America will extend to these for- 
mer German soldiers. 

These prisoners were always guarded by 
French soldiers who through age or other cause 
had been incapacitated for strenuous field serv- 
ice. Very few ever attempted to escape, so far 
as I have learned. The French guards were 
not at all vigilant, and in one case where I had 
three German prisoners digging a latrine for 
my " Y " hut the work was not being done to 
the satisfaction of the French soldier guarding 
them, so he calmly leaned his rifle against the 
stone wall and proceeded to do a lot of the work 
himself while the three Germans stood with 
their hands in their pockets beside his rifle, sev- 
eral feet from him. 

For a time I was stationed in one of the 
large huts in France, and each morning a detail 
of six German prisoners came with two French 
guards to clean up the place. The guards paid 
but slight attention to the prisoners, who 
worked diligently. Frequently the prisoners 
found money lying about in the hut where it 
had been lost by the American soldiers, and al- 



THE UNSUNG SONG iii 

waj'^s (so far as I know) the prisoners brought 
this money up to the counter and turned it in. 
One morning a German prisoner brought to 
the counter a wad of bills amounting to forty- 
five francs, which he had found near the stove. 
Personally I know of only one German 
prisoner who tried to escape, although, of 
course, there were a number of cases of at- 
tempted and successful escapes. This case oc- 
curred over in Alsace, where I was sent during 
the summer of 1918. The prisoner had escaped 
and had hidden in the woods for more than a 
week, gradually making his way toward the 
lines until there came a night when freedom lay 
almost within his grasp. He had Avormed his 
way through the lines, beyond the trenches, and 
was on the edge of No Man's Land. In two 
minutes more he would be safe, with his own 
lines close before him. But in that fateful mo- 
ment a soldier of one of the Michigan regi- 
ments of the Thirty-second Division, on patrol 
duty and peering intently into the night, 
thought he detected a movement close to the 
ground ahead of him. He challenged. No 
rei^ly. He challenged again. No reply. The 



112 WITH SEEING EYES 

third time he challenged, and the lock of his 
gun clicked ominously. Then up rose the es- 
caping prisoner, 

" Kamerad! Kamerad! " he cried. 

" All right," replied the Yank, " but keep 
your hands up! " 

Perhaps the German did not understand 
English, but he understood wliat the require- 
ments were, and he advanced with uplifted 
hands, repeating '' Kamerad! Kamerad! " 

As he advanced very near to the American, 
who was standing with rifle at the " charge," 
the German suddenly dropped his hands and 
sprang for the man who had halted him. But 
the " Kamerad " trick was an old story to the 
boys from over the sea by that time, and as the 
boche sprang the Yank gave him the bayonet 
and at the same instant pulled the trigger. 
The next morning the German was buried near 
where he had fallen, not far from the little 
village of Aspach-le-bas, opposite the city of 
Mulhausen. 

During my first days up on the Lorraine 
front the weather prevented much activity in 
the air. Snow and wind and heavy fog and 



THE UNSUNG SONG 113 

clouds and dense darlvness were very welcome, 
for they kept the enemy airmen from bombing 
us. Incidentally, of course, it kept our airmen 
from bombing them — but that fact did not put 
any wrinkles of worry in the faces of the Amer- 
ican soldiers. Their trenches were laiee-deep 
in mud and water and slush, and if dark nights 
kept Fritz from chasing them into those zig- 
zagging abodes of misery, so mote it be. 

Back m the wonderful America, in days 
agone we had delighted in moonlight nights, 
and I doubt not that during those war times 
many a maiden -standing by her chamber win- 
dow looked out at a wonderful moon and with 
her thoughts flj^ing across the sea, exclaimed, 
" O beautiful moon, I hope you are shining 
just as brightly above him this night." If so, 
said fair maiden was entirely out of tune with 
the hopes of the soldier lover overseas, who 
when the moon shone brightly would mutter 
disconsolately^ " Darn that moon. Fritz will 
be over to-night." And dark nights would be 
welcomed with, " Gee, but this is a peach of a 
night. No raid to-night, so it's sweet sleep 
for me." 



114 WITH SEEING EYES 

In a very short time the American soldiers 
moved out of their stable and other billets in 
the village into barracks they had erected in the 
field west of the village, and here I followed 
them, erecting a double-walled tent for my 
" hut." 

All hangars and barracks had been carefully 
and most skillfully camouflaged with fantastic 
color schemes of paint and by branches of trees 
draped over them. My tent was of khaki color, 
and was erected in a treeless field where it could 
easily be spotted by the airmen on their raids, 
but the camouflage men immediately trans- 
formed it by painting and by sticking in the 
ground here and there about the tent large 
cedar trees, with piles of brush placed at irregu- 
lar intervals, so that the effect was quite remark- 
able. As one of the boys remarked soon after 
the camouflage work was finished, " This tent 
sure looks like what it ain't." 

Our own airmen circled above the spot and 
reported that at a very little height the whole 
outfit became a clump of trees with the natu- 
rally accompanying lights and shadows. The 
windows of the tent were of some composition 



THE UNSUNG SONG 115 

similar to isinglass and could be raised or low- 
ered if desired. Heavy canvas flaps were tied 
down over them at night to prevent any ray of 
light from escaping. Our light consisted of 
candles and an occasional oil lantern. 

Here the men would come during their lei- 
sure hours to get warm, to write, to read, to 
play games, or to purchase canteen supplies of 
tobacco, chocolate, cigarettes, candles, soap, 
matches, sardines, salmon, condensed milk, 
jam, candy, cookies, etc., etc. At night the tent 
— about 20x60 feet — would be crowded with 
the men. Now I had none but American sol- 
diers, as the French were in the village, and the 
hut I had left back there had been placed in 
charge of a French-speaking American " Y " 
man who was conducting a foyer du soldat 
r home of the soldier ") , as the " Y " huts for 
the French were called. 

Those winter nights in my little tent will 
never be forgotten. A double flap was ar- 
ranged at the entrance, so that no light escaped 
as the soldiers came and went. And immedi- 
ately after " chow " on the long winter even- 
ings, when darkness came down early, the boys 



ii6 WITH SEEING EYES 

would flock to the " Y " tent. In a short time 
it would be jammed. It was all too small, but 
it was the best that could be done in those early 
days, and the soldiers understood and appre- 
ciated. 

We kept the little French stoves roaring, 
and about them the lads clustered, swapping 
yams, smoking and arguing; the writing-tables 
would be crowded, every seat would be taken, 
and many unable to find seats would be stand- 
ing. In the dim light of candles and through 
the blue haze of tobacco smoke the khaki-clad 
soldiers wearing shrapnel helmets were strange- 
appearing. 

Day after day and night after night they 
crowded the tent, and around the little stoves 
they argued about everything on earth or in 
the heavens above the earth, or in the waters 
beneath the earth — argued about when the war 
would end ; the nebular hypothesis ; the political, 
financial and social condition of Tasmania; 
who struck Billy Patterson; which is the best 
State in the Union; the ignorance and ineffi- 
ciency of all the officers from President Wilson 
down to the corporal sitting at another stove; 



THE UNSUNG SONG 117 

the age of Aiin; how many submarines their 
ship sighted when they came across (I think 
something hke nine million submarines must 
have been sighted by the ships bearing our 
fighting men across the sea, and at least fifty 
thousand must have been sunk — judging by 
the numbers given in these daily stove confer- 
ences) ; which squadron had the best cooks; 
was Marie " spoofing," or was she really smit- 
ten with the Irish sergeant; where the bombs 
struck last night; how badly scared Germany 
was over the coming of the Yanks ; the value of 
a shrapnel helmet ; which make of gas-mask was 
the best; when the detachment was to move — 
and where ; who landed in the guard-house last 
night — and why; how many planes just now 
flew over; whether the corned beef was really 
beef — or horse or mule; the word that some 
one's brother's aunt's uncle's friend had sent 
on the under side of a postage stamp concern- 
ing the true conditions in Germanj^; whether 
that was a boche plane or a French scout that 
was fooling around over camp a few minutes 
ago ; who was the worst scared when the bombs 
crashed last night ; the exact meaning of certain 



ii8 WITH SEEING EYES 

rocket signals the Germans were sending up to- 
night; how many thousands of Germans were 
killed or captured the other evening by a few 
American soldiers who were casually strolling 
around out in No Man's Land— etc., etc., ad 
infinitum. 

" I'm telling the world," was a great expres- 
sion with the Yanks. They usually prefaced 
their remarks with it, sometimes using, as a 
variation, " Go tell the world." They were 
fond of " telling the world " that if ever they 
got back to the States the Statue of Liberty 
would have to turn around if she ever saw them 
again, the j)oint of this declaration being in the 
fact that the Statue of Liberty faces the open 
sea. 

When I first reported at this station I was 
invited by the major in command to join the 
officers' mess, and did so for a short time. One 
of the officers was placed in charge of the mess, 
it being his duty to superintend the purchase of 
supplies and attend to all matters connected 
with the operation of the eating-place. A 
kitchen and a dining-room were hired in one 
of the village homes, a French woman was em- 



THE UNSUNG SONG 119 

ploj^ed, and two or three enlisted soldiers were 
detailed to assist. The expense of the mess was 
equally divided between us. 

But as soon as i^ossible I arranged to eat 
with the enlisted men — not because it was 
cheaj)er, which it was, but because I felt that 
my place was with them, that I could best serve 
them by sharing their fortunes as largely as 
possible and not bj^ remaining in the necessary 
exclusiveness of the officers' establishment. 
Some outfits I messed with charged me fifty 
cents a day for my food, while others refused to 
accept anj'^ j)ay. 

So I joined the mess-line with my tin plate, 
cup, etc., and took pot-luck with the privates 
and the " non-coms," as the non-commissioned 
officers (corporals and sergeants) are called. 
VlHien the bugles sounded mess call I would 
fall in with the others and we would slowly file 
past the " K. P." (kitchen police), and receive 
our portions of food. The kitchen police are 
not really police, as the civilian understands 
the term, but are men detailed to assist the 
cooks at the mess-shacks. As we filed past 
them one would hand us a slice of bread (or 



I20 WITH SEEING EYES 

perhaps two slices), another would issue the 
portions of meat or hash — or whatever there 
might be in that line — and also the potatoes, 
another would fill up our coffee-cui)s. Then 
we would hunt a seat at the rough tables and 
enjoy our meal. Very often a particularly 
hungry man could obtain " seconds," as the 
second helping was called. 

Of course, I have not attempted in the above 
paragraph to give the soldier's menu. I am 
simply outlining the way in which the men re- 
ceived their food. And, naturally, this varied 
greatly, according to the location of the 
men. 

Where I Avas stationed at this time it was 
possible for the men to have the food cooked in 
one end of the mess-shacks and for them to eat 
at rough tables in the other end of the building. 
The evening meal in winter had to be eaten in 
deep gloom (physical, not mental), because 
only a few lanterns could be used for illumina- 
tion, and that meant that one usually had but 
a hazy idea of what he was eating. Usually one 
was so hungry that he did not much care. He 
knew it was edible, whatever it was, so, in the 



THE UNSUNG SONG 121 

deep shadows of the mess-shack, he attacked 
whatever was on his plate and ate it on 
faith. 

I have heard a great deal of discussion con- 
cerning the food issued to the American sol- 
diers. My experience was that our men were 
splendidly fed. Without question, there were 
exceptions to this. Undoubtedly there were 
instances where this or that outfit fared badly, 
and there were cases where the " breaks " of 
luck of this kind seemed to run against certain 
outfits for sad periods of time. One can only 
speak especially of the vast majority of cases, 
and admit that there was a minority. 

The men had excellent meat, potatoes, beans, 
rice, hominy, corned beef, bread, coffee, prunes, 
and, of course, various other articles that they 
purchased from time to time with the mess 
funds they raised by various means. Among 
these extras, eggs were prominent. 

But the great piece de resistance of all Yank 
meals was " corn willy," as the soldiers called 
corned beef. The English Tommies called the 
same thing " bully beef," and the French poilus 
called it ** tinned monkej^" But no matter 



122 WITH SEEING EYES 

whether one called it corned beef, corn willy, 
bully beef, or tinned monkey, it was like Ten- 
nyson's brook — it went on forever. Really, in 
the hands of capable cooks, this " corn willy " 
could be made into excellent food — but after 
many months of it the most persuasive orator 
on earth could not convince the average Yank 
that corned beef was anything but garbage. 
It is a fact that one can become surfeited with 
anything, no matter how toothsome. 

Receiving one's food in a mess-line is not the 
most pleasing way imaginable for one to take 
his meals. The soldier's mess outfit consisted 
of two tin plates, a tin cup, knife, fork, and 
spoon. As one marched past the kitchen police 
and held out his plates everything was piled 
on the plates without it being possible to sepa- 
rate meat, gravy, potatoes, rice, hash, hominy, 
prunes, eggs, pudding, pie (for I have known 
outfits near the front lines to have pudding and 
pie) , syrup, and soup. Whatever one received 
was thoroughly mixed by the time he was ready 
to eat it, so that one was seldom bothered as to 
which article should be eaten first. Soup, en- 
tree, and dessert were allies and were usually 



THE UNSUNG SONG 123 

closely associated with each mouthful par- 
taken of. 

The question of sugar has interested all 
Americans, especially those who found it nec- 
essary to make one spoonful suffice for the 
three indulged in before the war. The Ameri- 
can soldiers usually had a fair supply of sugar. 
It was not set before them in big jars into 
which they could dive m wild sugar debauches, 
but usually the Yank overseas could have 
his coffee sweetened. And butter was not 
as infrequent an article as one might sup- 
pose. 

After all, the question of whether an outfit 
was well or poorly fed usually depended upon 
two parties, the commanding officer and the 
mess sergeant. Then came the question of 
cooks — a verj^ important question, too. The 
government rations were plentiful, good, and 
of commendable variety, but this fact alone 
could not possibly insure good food for all the 
soldiers, any more than the fact that one has 
access to a well-stored grocery means that he is 
certain to be properly fed. 

I have known commanding officers who paid 



124 WITH SEEING EYES 

not the slightest attention to the welfare of 
their men as regards food, giving no heed to 
whether or not the mess sergeant and cooks 
were performing their duties faithfully and 
well or whether they were inefficient, neglect- 
ful, or dishonest. For the truth is that armies 
have known cases where dishonest mess ser- 
geants (sometimes with the connivance of dis- 
honest cooks and sometimes acting alone) drew 
the proper rations for their outfits and then 
sold large quantities of these supplies to 
French or others and kept the money, while the 
men whom they were supposed to feed were 
put on short rations and had to suffer all that 
this meant. And, of course, the men blamed 
the government and complained accordingly. 
Sometimes these complaints got to proper ears 
and an investigation would bring about the 
punishment of the dishonest mess sergeant and 
a bettering of the food conditions. 

Probably there were not many cases of this 
dishonesty — but there were some. There were 
also cases where the mess sergeant was ineffi- 
cient and lacked the knack of " getting all that 
was coming " to his men. He was honest in his 



THE UNSUNG SONG 125 

intentions, but did not understand all the fine 
points that belong to his position, for, be it 
known, the mess sergeant of an outfit needs 
brains. It is no job for a " dub." 

And even with an honest mess sergeant who 
knows how to get all that his men are entitled 
to — and perhaps a bit more, for that occasion- 
ally happens by shrewd manipulation — it does 
not necessarily mean that the outfit will have 
good and nourishing food. The cooks must be 
reckoned with. Any housewife knows that she 
can stack her pantry and cellar full of excel- 
lent food articles — and remain hungry all the 
time if she has a poor cook who ruins whatever 
comes to hand. So it is with an army. I 
messed with outfits that had an abundance of 
food that Avas rendered mifit to eat by careless, 
inefficient cooks, and I messed with other out- 
fits that had the same stuff issued them and 
whose cooks did wonders with it. Some of the 
worst meals I ever ate I ate with the American 
soldiers in France. Some of the best meals I 
ever ate I ate with the American soldiers in 
France. The difference lay in the command- 
ing officers, the mess sergeants, and the cooks. 



126 WITH SEEING EYES 

The government had done its part toward each, 
without favoritism. 

Dish-washing in the army was not a matter 
of elaborate ceremony. A¥lien the Yank fin- 
ished his meal he went to the rear of the mess- 
shack, scraj)ed the remnants from his plate into 
a garbage can and then went to the boilers of 
dishwater. These were large receptacles usu- 
ally placed over open fires which so surrounded 
the boilers with smoke that the soldiers nearly 
always came out of it with streaming eyes and 
l^icturesque language. There were two of these 
boilers with dishwater, one — usually referred 
to as " No. 1," — containing boiling soapsuds, 
and the other — referred to as " No. 2," — con- 
taining boiling water without soap, for rinsing. 
We would plunge our plates, cups, knives, 
forks, and spoons into No. 1, stir with them a 
moment, and then dip them in No. 2, after 
which we would wipe them with whatever we 
could find to use for that purpose. Some of the 
makeshifts I have seen used as dishcloths could 
not well be referred to here, even though they 
were effective. 

Usually these boilers were surrounded by 



THE UNSUNG SONG 127 

soldiers, each fellow iii a huny — Americans are 
always in a hurry — and struggling to find room 
for his mess outfit in the boiler. Of course, 
each man had to hold his utensils in his hands 
while dipping them into the water — there was 
no such thing as droj)ping them in and then 
calmly fishing them out with convenient ar- 
ticles — and the result Avas that there was a con- 
stant chorus of " Ouch! , but that's 

hot ! " Many of these boilers were small, some- 
times of only four or five gallons' capacity 
when full, so that by the time one hundred or 
more men had soused their mess outfits in them 
the water could almost be sliced. It worked 
very well in the army, but I wouldn't recom- 
mend it for tlie American home. 

We had moved our old shraj)nel-marked 
piano out into the tent, and as the American 
army was full of splendid musicians, we never 
lacked for music. In the troops in this camp 
were some pianists who were really artists, men 
who occasionally indulged themselves in com- 
positions of the masters, but the favorite num- 
bers with the masses were " There's a Long, 
Long Trail," " Indiana," (no matter if the 



128 WITH SEEING EYES 

men who called for it were from Maine), 
" Keep the Home Fires Burning," " Over 
There," and " Good-bye, Broadway, Hello, 
France." 

But there is one song I never heard in 
France. It is " Home, Sweet Home." It was 
never sung; it was never played. Why? In 
your own heart and soul you will find a better 
answer than I could give. There was no sign 
tacked up forbidding it; no one said, " Thou 
shalt not," no one even whispered a wish that it 
be omitted. Songs of sentiment, songs of love 
and tenderness they sang and plaj'^ed — yes; 
but not " Home, Sweet Home." 

Just once did I ever hear its notes sounded, 
and they were quickij'^ hushed. It happened one 
wintry night when the storm wind was lashing 
our little tent and causing it to tug so menac- 
ingly at the guy-ropes that two or three times 
during the early evening I had gone out and 
driven the stakes still deeper. It was snowing 
hard. Darkness had come soon after four in 
the afternoon, and the tent was crowded before 
six. Some were playing checkers, some domi- 
noes (and may I say that I did not see half a 



THE UNSUNG SONG 129 

dozen packs of cards in France. Dice were all 
too numerous, but there were few cards) , every 
inch of space at the writing-tables was taken, 
those who had been fortunate enough to find 
seats about the stoves were engaged in the 
usual arguments and discussions, the canteen 
counter was lined, pipes and cigarettes were 
going full power, and there was a general babel 
of conversation, jests, and laughter. 

I happened to glance up as the tent-flap was 
raised and a tall soldier entered, shaking the 
snow from his broad shoulders. He came to 
the canteen counter, took off his overcoat and 
I found a nail on which he could hang it. 
There was no one at the piano at the moment, 
and the newcomer walked over and seated him- 
self on the stool, which, by some unwritten law 
of courtesy, was nearly always left unoccupied 
unless by some one who wished to play. 

Seated there, with his shrapnel helmet cocked 
a bit on one side and with his fortj^-five auto- 
matic pistol swung at his hip, he was decidedlj^ 
an interesting picture as he ran his fingers nim- 
bly up and down the keys. I noticed that he 
seemed to be heedless of the scene about him: 



I30 WITH SEEING EYES 

his face was raised until his gaze passed unsee- 
ingly over the top of the instrument; he was 
playing softly, probably improvising, and I 
knew by the look on his face that only the flesh 
of him was in that tent; the soul of him was 
across the sea. 

Then he did the forbidden thing. Forgetful 
of all save the scenes where his soul was stray- 
ing, he struck the opening notes of " Home, 
Sweet Home." Instantly, as if a general had 
shouted a command, silence fell. The rattle 
of checkers and dominoes ceased; the babel of 
voices stilled; the men at the writing-tables 
paused; slowly all eyes were turned toward the 
player. It was a tense moment. The sudden 
hush brought the player back to his surround- 
ings, and in that instant he realized his trans- 
gression. 

Watching him closely, I almost held my 
breath as I waited for the climax of the tense 
situation. I have always rejoiced that the lad 
who sat at the piano that night was a youth of 
rare discernment and quick thought. That he 
was all of this he quickly proved. 

When he realized his offense did he stop 



THE UNSUNG SONG 131 

playing and turn from the piano? Oh, no. 
That would have been tragedy. Had he done 
this the evening would have been killed, the 
songs and jests that had been filling the tent 
would have sounded no more that night, and 
in a brief time every mother's son of them 
would have been slipping out into the storm to 
seek their bunks, downcast and with acliing 
hearts. But the soldier at the piano divined 
this instantly, I saw but the slightest change in 
the poise of his head as he glanced aside toward 
his comrades now staring at him in something 
of bewilderment. Then without a break in his 
playing he merged the notes of the — may I use 
the term forbidden, even though it had never 
been forbidden except by mutual, unspoken 
consent? — song into something a bit livelier, 
and this into something a little gayer, and then 
that developed into a " rag " that soon had sol- 
dier feet patting and soldier arms swaying to 
its time. 

Gradually the checkers and dominoes began 
again to clack, here and there a joke was 
flipped, conversation and merriment grew as 
the man at the piano swung from one rollick- 



132 WITH SEEING EYES 

ing air to another, playing as I had never heard 
him play before. He was playing with the 
peace of mind, the morale, if you please, of his 
comrades as the stakes, and he knew it. He 
had led them to the brink ; he alone could drag 
them back. And he did. The situation was 
saved, and when the bugles sounded " Quar- 
ters " some time later the soldiers had forgot- 
ten the incident. Laughmg and jesting they 
buttoned their coats about them, shouted to me, 
" Good-night, old man ; see you to-morrow," 
and went plunging out into the whirling snow 
with all of the bubbling spirits of schoolboys. 

The pianist arose and came for his coat. 
His face was pale and drops of perspiration 
were on his brow. 

" Quick thought and good work, brother," 
I whispered as I handed him the coat. 

His eye caught mine; a flicker of a smile 
played about his lips. 

" It was my fault," he answered so softly 
that no ears but mine heard. " I was a fool, 
and I had to do something for their sake. 
Good-night." 




< r. 

s 

< ^ 

as ® 



CHAPTER VIII 

THE AIE-RAtD 

FOR some days this stormy weather pre- 
vailed, and while it was a hardship in 
many ways, especially on those whose 
duties kept them exposed to the wind and cold 
and snow, it afforded many nights when one 
could sleep without fear of bombs. 

But at last there came a balmy afternoon 
when skies were clear and the air soft. That it 
was to be a lively evening there was no doubt 
whatever. The British planes were aloft early 
in the afternoon, " tuning " their engines and 
preparing for the attack they Avere to make a 
few hours later. There was a constant drone 
of motors above us, the artillery was roaring, 
observation balloons were up, and m the village 
the wise ones were clearing the passageways 
to the abris (shelters) . 

Before dark the British squadrons were on 

the wmg toward German territorj^ and our 

133 



134 WITH SEEING EYES 

camp was preparing for the attack we knew 
full well would come from the other side. 

Evening came on with a cloudless sky and a 
full moon, a wonderful night. Soon after sup- 
per an American soldier came into my tent 
singing, 

"It looks to me like a big night to-night.** 

And he had it right. The artillery activity was 
increasing. Standing out beside my tent we 
could see the flame of the cannon fire darting 
along the crest of the hills and leaping into the 
sky. Shrapnel was splotching the air with its 
red hate ; above us we could hear the aeroplanes 
whirring back and forth on patrol; mingled 
with the thunder of the artillery we could distin- 
guish the peculiar " R-r-r-oo-oo-m-p ! " " R-r-r- 
oo-oo-m-p! " of bursting bombs. Searchlights 
were moving their long, gleaming avenues here 
and there across the heavens, seeking the flying 
foe. Not far away an anti-aircraft battery was 
firing at intervals. Truly, it did look as if a 
" big night '* were at hand. 

Going back into my tent I laid my overcoat, 
muffler and forty-five where I could reach them 



THE AIR-RAID 135 

with one grab. A " Y " secretary was not sup- 
posed to be armed, but a friend had given me 
an officer's pistol, and there were many times 
when I rejoiced in its possession. Later I was 
at points on the front where the commanding 
officer insisted on my going armed, one major 
going so far as to buckle his own belt and pistol 
about me when I was going forward and had 
not brought my own gTin with me. He was re- 
maining in his shell-proof dugout and would 
not need it, he said. 

That it was a question of only a short time 
until the enemy would be over us I knew, so I 
prepared accordingly. Most of the candles in 
the tent I extinguished, placed all money in 
my pocket so that if the tent were blown to 
pieces and I lived the finances would be saved, 
and then business went on about as usual with 
the thunder and roar growing momentarily 
louder. 

Things became so lively that most of the sol- 
diers finally left the tent and stood outside, mi- 
certain whether to remain or to seek shelter at 
once. A few stuck to their writing, " allow- 
ing " that they didn't projiose to give up their 



136 WITH SEEING EYES 

letters just because of a few shots or a prowl- 
ing boche plane or two. Then suddenly — 
" B-oo-oo~m-m-r-oo-oo-m-m! " " Crash! " 
" Bang! " " Put -put -put -put -put I " The 
" show " was at our doors. 

I stej)ped outside and viewed the ever-in- 
creasing activity. A guard came running to- 
ward me. 

" All lights ordered out ! " he shouted. 

I hurried into the tent and repeated the 
order, my words being echoed by a succession 
of crashes like unto boiler explosions. In- 
stantly every soldier extinguished the candle 
before him, and then they came out of there 
on the run, leaving unfinished letters lying on 
the tables. 

The Germans were not yet over us, but were 
bombing the British and French camp, just 
across the fields from us, and the British were 
fighting back vigorously. 

In our camp a bugle sounded. A moment 
later a soldier with a bugle in his hand came to 
where I was standing out in the road. 

" Do you know where the bugler of the 

squadron is? " he asked. *' He is supposed to 



THE AIR-RAID 137 

sound ' The Call to Arms,' but he can't be 
found, so the Major ordered me to sound it. I 
don't know it. The nearest thing to it I can 
think of is, ' To Horse,' so I sounded that." 

" That's good enough," I advised him. 
" Sound that." 

He did. Standing there in the road he sent 
the notes of the old cavalry call, " To Horse! " 
ringing out over the hills and fields. As a mat- 
ter of fact, it served just as well. The call, 
" To Arms," was not meant to really call the 
men to arms so much as it was to send them 
diving into the shelter-trenches. " To Horse ! " 
served just as well. 

The machine-gunners were already at their 
posts, one of these guns being set up just out- 
side my tent. Soldiers in gas-masks and hel- 
mets were scurrying for the trenches. But a 
few of us still remained in the road, fascinated 
by the wonderful scene that was taking place 
before our eyes. The white roadway with its 
background of dark fields stood out in the 
moonlight like a chalk-mark across a black- 
board, and on this roadway we were plainly 
outlined. 



138 WITH SEEING EYES 

Standing there one of the soldiers began to 
sing " Good-bye, Broadway, Hello, France." 
It was his way of showing contempt for the 
enemy. Another guard came do^vn the road. 

" Everybody off the road if you want to die 
of old age ! " he ordered. And I saw the force 
of his remarks. The song hushed and the 
singer skedaddled. 

Across the fields the fight was getting hotter. 
The bombs were crashing at more frequent in- 
tervals, the anti-aircraft guns were now in a 
constant roar, interspersed with the heavier 
thunder of French 75's ; rockets and flare-shells 
and shrapnel were hissing into the sky, and the 
shrapnel was getting much closer to where we 
stood. The drone of planes above us had in- 
creased in volume, other searchlights had begun 
to play on the heavens, and the " put-put-put- 
put " of machine-guns in the air and on the 
ground was adding to the din and pyrotech- 
nical display. 

The guard was right. Clearly, if one desired 
to die peacefully and years later than that night 
one had better get off the road, which was 
liable to be swept with machine-gun fire or 



THE AIR-RAID 139 

bombs any minute. A corporal and I held a 
moment's consultation. As a soldier, it was his 
duty to seek shelter in the trenches, according 
to orders, but the trenches were deep in slush 
and water and mud. On previous occasions 
similar to this " party " I had picked out a 
more or less dry ditch a short distance from 
camp that offered excellent shelter facilities, so 
the corporal decided to join me in the " retreat 
to victory "to this ditch. 

Later he was punished by the major for not 
obeying the set instructions to go to the 
trenches when the camp was attacked. But 
the corporal Avas not alone in disobeying the 
trench orders that night. As the fight went 
on I discovered fully a dozen American soldiers 
who had chosen to seek shelter outside of the 
trenches, and these, too, paid a penalty, as a 
roll call after the affair had ended revealed 
their absence. 

The spot I had selected was about a quarter 
of a mile doA^n the road, where there was a nice 
deep, but dry ditch on either side of the road 
into which we could dive like rabbits, choosing 
whichever side of the road might best suit our 



I40 WITH SEEING EYES 

needs. There we crouched to watch the fight, 
and it was wonderfully thrilling. 

The rolling crash of bombs was almost un- 
broken and the red glare of the shrapnel was 
creeping closer and closer to us, its vicious eyes 
blinking almost above us. I was fascinated as 
I never had been before. 

The searchlights were crisscrossing the sky, 
methodically searching for the foe, and then 
holding the German planes in their light when- 
ever found. Here and there high above us 
streams of fire would spurt horizontally across 
the heavens as the planes of friends and enemy, 
maneuvering, seeking, dodging, chasing, swoop- 
ing and circling, opened on each other with 
their rapid-fire guns. 

Once I saw one of these streams of fire dart 
straight down the long pathway of a search- 
light. A German plane had been caught in the 
electric glare and the gunner had opened fire 
on his tormentor and was endeavoring to shoot 
the searchlight out of action. But the betray- 
ing gleam was not to be gotten rid of, and 
steadily it followed the German here and there. 
A moment later another stream of sparks 



THE AIR-RAID 141 

darted horizontally across the sky toward the 
ribbon of light, and I knew that a British or 
French plane was carrying the fight to the 
Hun who had been thus revealed. 

Over in the British camp a column of red 
fire suddenl}^ shot up from the ground, and I 
learned later that it was an English plane that 
liad been forced down out of control and then 
destroyed by a direct bomb hit just as it touched 
the ground. A little later flames burst out 
high in the air and another British plane was 
destrojT^ed, crashing to earth a mass of tAvisted 
and charred steel and timber. The fight that 
night was distinctly a German victory. Why 
hide the truth now? 

The droning of the planes became still 
louder. Above us were ten German fighting- 
planes (according to the best authority obtain- 
able afterward) , twelve British planes, and two 
French planes. Peering intentlj^ upward, the 
corporal and I made out a plane rushing to- 
ward us. It was flying very low and we 
crouched in the ditch, forty-fives in hand, ready 
to return the fire as best we could should it 
prove to be an enemy. At the low altitude at 



142 WITH SEEING EYES 

which it was flying we would have a fair chance 
of doing some damage even with pistols. 

On it came, a huge, dark object sweeping 
across the moonlit sky like a mammoth bird of 
evil omen. We were not afraid of being 
bombed even if we were seen, for bombs Avere 
too valuable to waste on two men, but Fritz 
would be apt to open with his machine-guns 
and sweep the road and ditch. So we waited 
and watched, straining our ears to catch the 
sound of the motors that would tell the story as 
to whether it was friend or foe flying toward 
us. One's ears rather than his eyes told him 
whether a plane was that of friend or enemy, 
for the motors in the allied machines worked 
with a steady (or practically unbroken) drone, 
while the German motors were intermittent in 
their sound, something like this: " Z-uz-z-z — 
z-uz-z-z — z-uz-z-z!" 

Always when one heard a plane that his eyes 
could not identify he listened for the sound of 
the motor, and if the tell-tale intermittent 
droning was heard he would — if he were wise — 
locate shelter immediately. The question has 
frequently been asked as to whether a falling 



THE AIR-RAID 143 

bomb can be heard. Usually — if not always — 
they can. They make a weird whistling sound 
that can be heard a moment before they strike ; 
that is, of course, if one is near the missile. 

The French have an expression, " tout de 
suite" meaning immediately. It is pronounced 
" toot d'sweet," and usually the Americans 
omitted the " d " entirely and pronounced it 
" toot sweet." When a Yank wanted some- 
thing done in a hurry by the French he always 
added emphatically: " Toot sweet — and the 
tooter the sweeter ! " 

So when one heard the whistle of a bomb he 
" hit the ground," to use a soldier expression, 
" toot sweet — and the tooter the sweeter." The 
shrapnel and fragments of exploding bombs 
usually rise slightly as they sj)ray in all direc- 
tions, so that it is important for a soldier to 
get as flat on the ground as possible in the hope 
that the deadly shrapnel will fly over him. 
Still safer, of course, is it to get below the sur- 
face of the ground if possible. Thus, if one is 
in a trench or a ditch he is comparatively safe 
unless the bomb drops directly into the trench 
or ditch. 



144 WITH SEEING EYES 

When men were fleeing from bombs they 
would run until they heard the vicious whistle 
of one and then they would throw themselves 
flat upon the ground, rising after the explosion, 
if able to do so, and running until the next 
whistle was heard, and then again throwing 
themselves prone upon the ground. 

The plane sweeping toward us as we 
crouched in the ditch proved to be a British 
Handley-Page. Not only did the sound of its 
motors tell the story, but as it reached a point 
almost directly over us it flashed its electric 
signals, for you must laiow that these planes 
carry different-colored signal-lamps that can 
be winked at will by the pilot. They used a 
regular code of signals — usually changed 
nightly — whereby they could identify them- 
selves to the gunners below, who, otherwise, 
might not trust to the sound of the motors, or 
who amid the din of fighting might not be able 
to distinguish sounds. 

I saw a gi'eat deal of air work during the 
war, and I pause now to say that I aclmowl- 
edge the courage of the men who fight their 
country's battles thousands of feet above the 



THE AIR-RAID 145 

earth — no matter what their nationality is. I 
am ready to salute a brave man whoever he is, 
and over there in those days the air was full of 
them. 

There came a lull in the " show " and I heard 
voices across a field. Clearly they were Yanks. 
The corporal and I went across and found a 
little group of our men sitting in the shadows 
of trees, on the railroad track that ran near 
camp. 

" What in the world are you fellows doing 
here?" I asked. 

" Why, Kramer," one answered, " this is the 
biggest show we've ever seen — and we have re- 
served seats." 

That was their spirit. That was the spirit of 
the American soldier or sailor wherever he was 
tested in this Avar. Undaunted, when peril 
came nigh these boys grinned and jested. God 
bless them, the world never saw their superiors, 
and never will see them. 

For a time the firing was desultory, and the 
little group I had joined started out across the 
plowed field toward the road leading back to 
camp. When we were in the middle of this 



146 WITH SEEING EYES 

field the fight suddenly broke out again with 
greater fury than ever. Shrapnel sprayed the 
air more thickly than previously, the anti-air- 
craft guns and 75's were roaring louder than 
before, and the bombs were fairty raining, so 
much so that one of the soldiers with me ex- 
claimed: 

" Oh, boy! Fritz is unloading 'em with a 
scoop now!'* 

The " put-put-put " of the machine-gims 
seemed to have redoubled, and the angry flashes 
of the batteries were now almost unbroken. 
Perhaps it is not necessary for me to say that 
we lost our desire to reach the road. Our 
promenade came to a sudden halt. Then a 
searchlight began swinging its avenue of light 
directly over us. We heard the " z-uz-z-z — 
z-uz-z-z — z-uz-z-z " of a German motor above 
us, and instinctively every man " hit the ground 
toot sweet " — and I insist that none of them hit 
it any " tooter " than I did. Each man chose 
for himself a nice deep furrow and stretched 
out in it. Probably each man wished he could 
burrow a bit deeper. I so wished. 

All of the soldiers wore their gas-masks at 



THE AIR-RAID 147 

the " alerte " position, that is, buckled up 
against their chests ready to be slipped on im- 
mediately. At that time each American sol- 
dier was provided with two gas-masks, a British 
mask and a French mask, the latter being 
carried as an emergency affair, to be donned 
in case the British mask should be damaged. 
Later in the war the French masks were not 
issued, experience having proven that more 
men became casualties through errors of judg- 
ment in changing masks than suffered because 
of having but one mask upon which to depend. 

At the time I speak of I had no gas-mask, 
nor helmet either, for that matter. Repeated 
efforts to obtain them had failed. The army 
authorities either thought that a Y. M. C. A. 
secretary Avas more skillful in dodging shrapnel 
and shell fragments than were the soldiers or 
else they figured that a dead secretary here and 
there did not matter. Later they adopted a 
different attitude, but up to this time all my 
efforts to obtain a helmet or gas-mask had 
failed, and I was going through this affair with 
my campaigii-hat and no mask. 

As I lay stretched out in my furrow I heard 



148 WITH SEEING EYES 

my name called from out in the field. I an- 
swered, and presently a soldier came crawling 
toward me. Unslinging his French gas-mask, 
he handed it to me. 

" Put this on," he said. " Fritz may drop 
some of his suffocating hell." 

" No, no," I protested. " It's against or- 
ders. Each soldier must carry both masks. I 
can't take yours." 

"Orders, hell!" he exclaimed. "I've got 
my other mask, and you have none. Take it or 
I'll take off my other one and throw them both 



away 



I took it. Think you that there shall ever 
come a day when that soldier's act will have 
been forgotten by me? 

The fight continued for about two hours. 
Then the firing died away, and except for the 
droning of the Allied j)lanes above us silence 
fell over the scene. In the American camp a 
bugle sounded " Recall," and the scattered 
troops began gathering home. A little later 
there was another brief period of firing, a skulk- 
ing German j)lane having been detected. But 
it was of brief duration. I opened the " Y " 



THE AIR-RAID 149 

tent and a number of soldiers came in to get 
warm, although no lights were allowed. Then 
*' Quarters " sounded, and a few minutes later 
" Ta^Ds " broke the stillness that had come upon 
that i^art of the world. 

I found that none of the Americans had been 
hit. In fact, the Americans had not been per- 
mitted to take part in the fight. Our gunners 
were at their stations and begging for per- 
mission to open on the Huns, but our camp had 
not been directly attacked, even though the air- 
fighting was over us, and the commanding of- 
ficer — perfectly correctly, no doubt — ^had ruled 
that so long as we were not especially attacked 
it was best to keep out of the affair, as our 
batteries by going into action would betray the 
location of our cleverly camouflaged camp. 

During the entire action the thing that par- 
ticularly interested me was the fire of the ma- 
chine-guns. Why? I cannot explain it. But 
amid all the din of the fighting I found myself 
listening with a sort of fascination to the " put- 
put-put " of the machine-guns. If one wishes 
to get some idea of the sound of machine-gmi 
firing he can do so by saying *' put-j)ut-j)ut " 



I50 WITH SEEING EYES 

as rapidly as possible, giving the " u " the short 
sound, as in " hut." To my mind this is as 
good a description as can be given on paper. 
Or if you chance to hear some one beating a 
carpet a short distance from you the sound 
will be much like that of a machine-gun in 
action. During all of my stay along the front 
these weapons always chained my attention, 
even when heavy guns were thundering at the 
same time. 

The exact losses of the British in the affair 
I was never able to learn. But three of their 
machines were destroyed and a number of their 
men were killed and wounded. Not a German 
plane was brought down. 

That the Germans were searching for the 
American camp there is not much doubt, as 
some of their machines flew quite low while 
passing over us, and there seems good reason 
to believe that our camp escaped the deluge of 
bombs through a peculiar combination of 
facts, 

A water system was in course of construc- 
tion in our camp, and by reason of some of- 
ficer's blunder a large tank was placed high 



THE AIR-RAID 151 

above the highest point, to serve as a stanclpipe. 
The tank was a perfect landmark for any one 
seeking to locate the American camp, as it 
could be seen for miles. All of our barracks 
and hangars had been carefully concealed and 
camouflaged — and yet that tank was placed 
high in the air, a screaming advertisement of 
our position. It was an almost unbelievable 
blunder. 

After it had been up there some time and fiad 
been the butt of grim jokes among all of the 
soldiers, who termed it " Our invitation to 
Fritz," an inspecting officer visited our camp 
one day. He took one look at that bit of folly 
and ordered it taken down immediately. 
Within the hour the men who had labored so 
hard erecting it were tearing it down. That 
same day a German plane was shot down near 
Toul, and in the pilot's possession was found a 
splendid photograph of our position, with that 
water-tank looming up like a lighthouse on a 
dark night. 

The next night the attack came, but when 
the Germans circled over us they were unable 
to discover the water-tank that would have so 



152 WITH SEEING EYES 

easily guided them in locating important points 
in our camp. Puzzled by their inability to 
find the landmark so plainly shown in their 
aeroplane photographs, and with our guns re- 
maining silent, they did not risk wasting bombs 
on uncertainties, but dumped all of them on 
the British. 

It is not strange, however, that the British 
received so much attention from the Germans 
as our Allies had erected their barracks and 
hangars out in an open field, placed closely to- 
gether, at regular intervals and angles, the 
sides and tops of the hangars being of cor- 
rugated iron, with not the slightest attemj)t at 
camouflage. The result was that it photo- 
graphed perfectly in the daytime, and on moon- 
light nights it fairly glittered. 

Why the Royal Flying Corps with its years 
of war experience should have built a camp like 
that is as inexplicable as why that conspicuous 
water-tank was placed aloft over our camp. 
Luckily, the tank blunder was rectified m tune 
to save us from loss of life, but it required fre- 
quent attacks and considerable loss of life 
among the British and the French (whose 



THE AIR-RAID 153 

hangars were built adjoining the English and 
in the same manner) before they learned their 
lesson. The French were first to acknowledge 
their blunder. They abandoned their hangars 
and sought a more sheltered place, but the 
British had to be hammered again and again 
before they confessed their error, a typically 
English trait, I may remark. 

The next night after the raid I have referred 
to, immediately after dark all the British sol- 
diers with the exception of a guard detail, 
slipped out of their exposed camp and came to 
the American camp, where we sheltered them 
and made them as comfortable as possible. 
They crowded our " Y " tent, and the Amer- 
ican boys gave them the i)laces around the 
stoves and gave them all of our chairs. Early 
in the morning the British returned to their 
camp, and then slipped back to us again at 
night. They acknowledged that they were 
" fed up " on raids and that it was inviting 
death to remain out in their exposed barracks. 
So night after night the\'' came to us, and al- 
ways our fellows extended them every courtesy, 
divided cigarettes — or " fags," as the British 



154 WITH SEEING EYES 

call them — and did their best to make them 
comfortable. 

In the meantime the British had gotten busy 
and were erecting barracks and hangars back 
in the woods that bordered the o^^en field where 
they had been camping. Their new camp was 
perfectly concealed from air-scouts, and was 
such as they should have constructed in the first 
place. 

They also played a neat little trick on Fritz 
that later afforded all of us much amusement. 
When they moved into their new quarters back 
in the woods they left their old barracks and 
hangars standing, empty, out in the field. Not 
long after they had made the change the Ger- 
mans came a-raiding once more. They flew 
over the old field at considerable height and 
dropped bombs. 

Always before, the British were quick to 
fight back, but this time not a gun was fired 
from the ground. " Z-uz-z-z — z-uz-z-z — 
z-uz-z-z " purred the boche motors as they 
circled above the old fighting ground. Then 
they swooped lower and again cut loose with 
their bombs, but not a sound save the crashing 



THE AIR-RAID 155 

of their o^^ti explosives came from below. 
*' Z-uz-z-z — Z-UZ-Z-Z-— z-iiz-z-z," and the Hmis 
flew back and forth, plainly puzzled, while back 
in the woods the Tommies laughed and joked. 
Then again the Germans swooped, and this 
time their machine-guns raked the hangars and 
barracks. No reply. 

Mystified, they flew away at last, while 
Tommy went peacefully to sleep, his new posi- 
tion undiscovered, a position from which he 
would sally forth in the evenings and attack 
the enemy, and to which he would dash back 
and hide in safety. 



CHAPTER IX 

WHAT THE YANK WILL NOT FORGIVE 

WHILE I have described but one of 
the raids, they were of frequent oc- 
currence. But one raid is very 
much like another. Each has its dramatics, its 
sorrows, and its humor. 

Often our evenings of song and frolic were 
interrupted by the sudden crash of bombs, the 
shout of " Lights out! " and the general dash 
for the trenches. Men who were engrossed in 
letter-writing one second would in the wink of 
an eye be gi-abbing candles and blowing desper- 
ately at them, chairs and benches and tables 
would be upset in the stampede, and I would 
be alone in the tent. Not for long, however. 
They did not join me. I joined them. 

If you find the right men they will still tell 

you laughingly of a night when bombs crashed 

close to the hut and how one or two of them 

in the first panic sprang over the canteen 

156 



THE YANK WILL NOT FORGIVE 157 

counter and landed on others who were flat on 
the floor back of the counter, seekmg even this 
scant protection from the shrapnel that flew 
close around. Or they will tell you of jump- 
ing into the trenches and alighting on some 
Yank who had beaten them to that particular 
sjjot; or of the soldier who was in the camp 
hospital suffering with rheumatism so that he 
had to have his meals carried to him — but when 
the shrapnel rattled against the little hut of a 
hospital, barefooted he passed a lot of good 
runners on their way doA^ii the road. These 
things were not evidences of cowardice. You 
can't intimidate a bomb by defying it. 

I was in the village a time or two when tHe 
boche came over, and it was a bit funny to see 
how the French soldiers and civilians fled for 
safety. French soldiers wearing the croia^ de 
guerre, the insignia of valor, ran as quickly as 
the others. The years had taught them the 
foolishness of loitering in the open when bombs 
were falling. 

Nearly all of the Frencli in that section wore 
wooden shoes, and the instant the French bugle 
sounded the raid alarm there would be the wild- 



158 WITH SEEING EYES 

est sort of clatter from these shoes as the people 
fled to cover. Oftentimes French soldiers 
would jump in the odd two-wheeled carts, and 
plying the whip to the horse they would go 
bouncing away to safety, looking up and back 
over their shoulders to see if the foe was nigh. 
I have seen families hurry to basements, and 
there the mother and her children would cower 
in terror, with little gasping cries as the ter- 
rible roar of the bursting bombs was heard, not 
knowing what instant one of the awful engines 
of destruction might come crashing into their 
midst ; I have seen women and children running 
out of the town to the neighboring hills. And 
amid it all one feels how utterly helpless he is 
in an air-raid. 

Those who man the batteries and fight back 
have the sense of satisfaction that doing some- 
thing affords — but even they know full well 
that there is slight chance of hitting the flying 
enemy. 

And thus the time passed — air-raids, the 
thunder of artillery, the night skies splotched 
with shrapnel and flare-shells, the while we 
watched 



THE YANK WILL NOT FORGIVE 159 

** Rocket green and rocket red 
In trembling pools of poising light 
With, flowers of flame festoon the night." 

As the winter waned the foe's artillery 
activity increased, and it was generally believed 
that the long-looked- for German drive was at 
hand. American divisions were taking over 
sectors of the fighting line, day after day col- 
umns of French infantry or artillery j)assed, 
generally marching toward Verdun, whose 
guns we could hear in the distance. Around 
St. Mihiel the Americans were now getting 
their baptism of fire. Toul and Nancy were 
bombed night after night. Big guns were liemg 
brought up from the rear and mounted in the 
woods about us, ready for the expected drive 
should it fall upon our section. Observation 
balloons were more in evidence during the day, 
at night searchlights crisscrossed the sky, and 
strange signals burned their way into the dark- 
ness. 

Spies and treacheiy were all about us, and 
afield at night one never knew whether it was 
the cry of a night bird or the signal of a traitor 
that he heard. Vigilance was redoubled; from 



i6o WITH SEEING EYES 

unexpected places in the darkness would come 
the harsh challenge of guards, and a flashlight 
would be full in one's face the moment he 
replied. 

Not a light was permitted to show either in 
camp or in the village. Should a glimmer be 
seen the guards were there in a few minutes 
with reprimands and warning of punishment. 
That ray of light might be treason's signal, or 
it might, unintentionally, work mischief in 
some other way. 

All about us now were American, French, 
Madagascar, Algerians, Indo-Chinese, British, 
a few Italians, and a few Russians. And yet 
there was but little crime, and although women 
and girls went freely and alone through the 
pitch-dark streets I never knew of more than 
one being molested, and that was a young girl 
who was seized by a Madagascar and promptly 
rescued by an American. 

On Sundays there were ball games, and at 
night I usually conducted something in the way 
of religious services, being my own song-leader 
and preacher, although I am neither a minister 
nor a singer. Ever since the lady who bears 



THE YANK WILL NOT FORGIVE i6i 

my name learned that I acted as song-leader in 
that hut she says she has a fuller conception of 
war's horrors. The boys always enjoyed the 
singing part of the service, nevertheless. We 
would pass cards containing a number of well- 
known hymns, and they would call out the ones 
they wished to sing. The favorites were " The 
Son of God Goes Forth to War," " Onward, 
Christian Soldier," " What a Friend We Have 
in Jesus," "Trust and Obey," "Rock of 
Ages," and " Nearer My God to Thee." We 
always opened the service by standing and 
singing "America," and always closed with 
" The Battle Hymn of the Republic." 

It was insj)iring to hear those men sing these 
old hymns, and especially as they stood in the 
dim light of the candles and sang 

"I have seen Him in the watchfires 
Of a hundred circling camps ; 
They have builded Him an altar 

In the evening dews and damps. 
I have read His righteous sentence 
By the dim and flaring lamps — 
His truth is marching on." 

At the close of the service I had them repeat 
with me the Lord's Prayer, and they were dis- 



i62 WITH SEEING EYES 

missed. On one occasion I had just received 
a large supply of apples sent from the States, 
and following the services I handed out these 
apples " with the love of the folks back home." 
More than one eye grew misty as they took the 
little token sent them by the " folks " so far 
away. 

On Washington's birthday a number of 
school children led by their teacher marched 
out to the " Y " tent and to the best of their 
ability honored the occasion by singing " The 
Marseillaise." 

A day or two later a number of French boys 
held a celebration in the village in honor of the 
fact that they had just been notified that next 
year they were to be called to the colors. They 
decorated themselves with gorgeous badges, 
cheered, sang '' The Marseillaise'' and marched 
by the cannon parked in the streets and deco- 
rated the grim, camouflaged guns with artificial 
flowers. And even as they sang the thunder of 
the fighting was in their ears. Such was the 
spirit of the youth of France, 

One of our " red letter " days was when Gen- 
eral Pershing visited the camp. News of his 



THE YANK WILL NOT FORGIVE 163 

coming had preceded him, and eveiy thing with 
Avhich the Americans had to do was " mani- 
cured " and polished. Then everybody he^t 
a vigilant watch for the coming of the com- 
mander-in-chief of the American armies in 
France. Needless to say, I had the " Y " 
tent in spick-and-span condition. One of 
the boj^s upon entering stopped, stared, and 
blurted out, " Hell, I'm in a bridal cham- 
ber!" 

But the INIost High did not deign to even 
glance toward my palace of beauty. Indeed, 
he scarcely noticed the camp at all. Stopping 
at headquarters long enough to greet the of- 
ficers — and to reprimand an unfortunate buck 
private or two for the heinous offense of not 
having the heels exactly together and toes 
pointed out at the proper angle — he then re- 
entered his car, drove at high speed to where 
the field was being leveled for Aying purposes, 
inspected it, and a moment later was making- 
forty miles an hour away from our camp, fol- 
lowed by the other cars that contained the of- 
ficers of his staff — and by sighs of relief from 
the rest of us. 



i64 WITH SEEING EYES 

On another occasion the village was honored 
by a visit from General Petain, of the French 
army, who inspected the French troops there 
and decorated a few of them with the croia^ de 
guerre. 

Only occasionally now did I have visits from 
French soldiers. They spent their leisure 
hours in the foyer du soldat, where I had been 
located at first. But now and then they came, 
pleading for American cigarettes or tobacco. 
They could obtain French cigarettes and to- 
bacco in their own hut, but even the hardy 
poilus were loth to use the stuff if they could 
get American tobacco and smokes. To sit 
near a glowing French cigarette was like going 
through a gas attack. 

Attached to the American headquarters in 
our camp was a French sergeant-pilot, who 
spoke good English, but who stumbled griev- 
ously when he attempted to write it, as will be 
observed in the following note he sent to me by 
a French private, asking me to sell him some 
cigarettes, although he knew it was against the 
orders of his own government: 



THE YANK WILL NOT FORGIVE 165 

March 3, '18. 
Dear Sir : 

Could you be kind enough in order to give to 
the man earring this letter and if it is possible to you, 
ten packets of cigarettes, of those selded Ofr., 50 
each. — I know it is not regular, but it is for the 
French doctor who cures me. — He has been very kind, 
and as he goes in "permission" to-morrow morning 
for 10 or 15 days he would like to bring them with, 
being affraid not to found any tobacco in the interior 
land. — It would agree me if I could let him have them. 
Excuse me to trouble you and believe to my kindest 
regards. Yours truly, 

ElLHVINNES. 

I still have the note, and give it here with no 
change in the wording, spelling, or punctua- 
tion. He got the cigarettes. Perhaps I ought 
to explain that his statement of the price 
" Ofr. 50," means " no francs and fifty cen- 
times," the same as if we would write " $00.50," 
meaning fifty cents. Do not understand me 
to say that fifty centimes is the same as fifty 
cents. I am referring to the writing of it. 
" Permission " is the French word for leave of 
absence. 

This brings up the general subject of French 
money, which every Yank held in supreme con- 
tempt. " Soap-wrappers" was his usual desig- 
nation of the French bills, and he snorted with 



i66 WITH SEEING EYES 

disgust because of their flimsiness. The Amer- 
ican soldier took no care of these " soap- 
wrappers," wadding them up in his pocket 
much as he would a tangle of twine, and they 
were usually brought out with a scornful jerk 
that not infrequently tore them to pieces. 
Then the man at the canteen counter had to get 
out his gummed paper (made especially for 
this purpose by the French, an acknowledg- 
ment on their part that the money really is 
flimsy) and carefully patch the torn bills. 

The bills above five-franc denominations 
bore in the lower left-hand corner a certain 
series number, and the same number in the 
upper right-hand corner. In piecing together 
torn bills one had to be careful not to get parts 
of two different bills mixed. The figures in 
the lower and upper corners had to correspond, 
else the bills were worthless. 

In every " Y " tent were placards warning 
the American soldiers to examine patched bills 
before accepting them in order to be sure that 
the numbers were correct, and also urging them 
to be careful in handling the money, but few 
heeded the advice. They j)referred to rail at 



THE YANK WILL NOT FORGIVE 167 

the unsubstantial stuff and express uncompli- 
mentary opinions of any one, French or Amer- 
ican, who would not accept worthless bills as 
readily as had the holder of them. 

Another cause of vexation on the part of the 
Yank soldiers was the local money issued by 
the Chambers of Commerce of different cities 
and good only in that community. For in- 
stance, Toul issued money that was good in 
Toul — or j)erhaps might be accepted in some 
near-by village — but would not be accepted by 
merchants in Neuf chateau or Nancy. Soldiers 
moving around over France would get a lot of 
this local money in change, would be suddenly 
transferred to some other point and then find 
that they had a pocketful of worthless local 
money. Some of this was cardboard, some 
pax^er, some aluminum — all sorts and descrip- 
tions. The Y, ]Mo C. A. canteens would accept 
this " junk " and send it to headquarters, 
whence it would be sent back to the different 
cities from whence it was issued. 

The French money has the franc as its basis, 
the same as United States money has the dollar. 
One hundred centimes make one franc, which 



I68 WITH SEEING EYES 

is approximately twenty cents, a centime being 
about the same as one-fifth of one cent. Prob- 
ably there was a time when they used one- 
centime pieces in France, but they are not used 
now. I saw a few one-centime pieces that 
were being carried as souvenirs, but, generally 
speaking, the five-centime piece { equalling one 
cent) is the smallest. These and the ten-cen- 
time pieces are of copper, the latter being about 
the size of the old-fashioned two-cent piece for- 
merly in circulation in the United States. 

These French copper pieces were called 
" clackers " by the American soldiers, who 
amused themselves by throwing them to the 
French children, who soon came to regard 
all soldats Americaines as millionaires. The 
French youngsters also soon learned to solicit 
these " clackers," the result being that when- 
ever an American soldier appeared, there, too, 
appeared these children, trotting along beside 
the Yank and eagerly saying, " Sou! " 
" Sou! " The five-centime piece is commonly 
called a " sou " by the French. 

Another thing the French children soon 
learned was that the wonderful beings from the 




BON 1)1 l:fv 1 K\\( f/ 



X J 01 v\n (iMiMisJ *^^ 






.^CHATEAU ROC X^l 




CHAriBRE rjvjMtRCE r^ 




:. . . ^ • .■•„ O 




Samples of French Money. 
Showing different styles of one franc and half-franc {cinquante centimes, or fifty 
centimes) notes, and in the center some of the " local currency" printed on paste- 
board and aluminum. The circular piece shown at the bottom center is a 
cardboard tive-centime piece (one cent in U. S. monej-), above it is a twenty- 
centime piece stamped on aluminum, and above it are two twenty-five centime 
pieces i)rinted on cardboard. This money caused the American .soldiers no 
end of trouble. 



THE YANK WILL NOT FORGIVE 169 

world beyond the sea usually had a package or 
two of gum in their pockets, and the little folks 
developed an enormous craving for this. So 
as they trotted along by the Yanks they would 
usually alternate their " sou " plea with one for 
gum, which they pronounced " gaum," in a 
jDeculiarlj'^ solemn, deep-throated manner. 

But the French children loved the American 
soldiers for themselves, and not alone for sous 
and gum. The heart of the Yank seemed in- 
stinctively to go out to the youngsters, and the 
average soldier was happiest when he was 
carrying some child on his shoulders, or in some 
other way showing kindness to the " kids." 

Certain it is that when the present children 
of France grow to maturitj^ they will hold in 
their minds loving memories of the men from 
America. 

I am compelled to state, however, that my 
judgment is that the majority of American 
soldiers have returned home with resentment 
in their hearts against the French. Too often 
the American misunderstood the French 
morals, as I have said before, but I am not re- 
ferring to that question no\v. Neither am I 



I70 WITH SEEING EYES 

referring to the way in which the average 
American soldier viewed everything French 
through biased American eyes. All of that 
might yield to time and further analysis. But 
there is one fact that rankles in the memory of 
the American soldier and that will not soon 
change aspect in his mind, and that is the fact 
that he was shamefully overcharged regularly 
by the French shopkeepers. 

There is no question at all but that a French- 
man could go into a shop and purchase an 
article at about two-thirds the price that would 
be charged the American who bought the same 
article a minute later. This practice became 
so notorious that the Paris newspapers took 
cognizance of it and editorially warned France 
against its continuance. As a matter of fact, 
semi-official action was taken by French or- 
ganizations and efforts were made to protect 
the Americans from this robbery. And the 
crusade against overcharging had its effect, but 
never entirely eliminated it. 

This practice will never be forgiven by the 
returning American soldier. It chilled the love 
for France that most of the boys in khaki took 



THE YANK WILL NOT FORGIVE 171 

across the sea with them, and when these sol- 
diers become the leaders of our nation, the 
arbiters of our country's relations with France, 
this petty dishonest practice on the part of so 
many shopkeepers during the great war will 
still be remembered and resented, and the effect 
of this memory and resentment is not to be 
lightly considered. In the great future when 
matters are being weighed in the balance and 
America's leaders are trying to determine on 
which side the hair's weight of evidence lies, the 
memory of this double-dealing will not tilt the 
scales in favor of France. A little thing, you 
may say, and j^et matters of less importance 
have decided the fate of nations. 

But in all fairness it must be added that some 
of the American soldiers themselves were 
largely responsible for the practice becoming 
so flagrant. This volume is being written with 
the sincere desire to be fair and just in all 
things, and while it is farthest from the writer's 
desire to minimize this practice of overcharg- 
ing, he must point out the fact that in the early 
contingents to reach France — and m the later 
ones, too, for that matter — there were a large 



172 WITH SEEING EYES 

number of happy-go-lucky boys who threw 
their money around in a careless and lavish 
manner, so that the French, accustomed to thrift 
and conservatism in money matters, were over- 
whelmed with amazement at the prodigality of 
the sons of the land beyond the sea, and soon 
they came to feel that all Americans were roll- 
ing in wealth. 

Our soldiers were not at all unhappy over 
the reputation that they soon gained as men 
of untold riches. They gave extravagant tips 
(so large that there came a time when Paris 
papers protested against it, as it embarrassed 
the French, who could not stand the pace), 
they threw out handfuls of French money and 
signaled that the shopkeepers were to take 
what they wanted, and the remainder was 
stuffed back into the soldier's pockets without 
so much as a glance at it. The Yank was hav- 
ing the time of his life playing the " million- 
aire kid." 

The French first gasped in astonishment — 
and then grasped with avidity. 

The American soldiers probably will never 
forgive the overcharging by the French. But 



LA BATAILLE A L'OUEST DE SAINT-QUENTIN. — ALERTE A PARIS 



EXCELSIOR 



UNE PIECE A LONGUE P0R7EE A BOMBARDE PARIS HIER 



COMMUNIQUE OFFICIEL DU SAMEDI 23 MARS. 15 HEURES : 

L'ennemi a tire sur Pans avec une pi^ce a longue portee. Depuis 8 heures 
du matin, de quart a'beure en quart d'heure, des obus de 240 ant atteint la 
capitate et la bantieue. II y a arte dizaine de marts et une quinzaine de blesses. 
Les mesures pour contre-battre la pi^ce ennemie sont en voie d^execution. 




The Lono-Ranoe Bomharpment. 

Sketch in " Excelsior." is-sued in Paris Sunday morninjr. ^farch 24. 1918, 

showing the Ideation of " Big Burtlia,"' vand tlie course of tlie shells. 



THE YANK WILL NOT FORGIVE 173 

will they condone and wipe from their minds 
the same thing that was practised on them by 
many storekeepers in our own country? There 
were camps in America near cities in which 
the man in uniform was " held up " for excess- 
ive prices, according to repeated complaints 
of the soldiers. After all, human nature is 
about the same the world over, and I am won- 
dering how an army of French soldiers would 
fare in America were they to come over with 
more money than we were accustomed to see- 
ing and then throw that monej^ around as freely 
and carelessly as the Yanks did theirs. 

Certainly the undoubted fact that we would 
" take plent}^ " does not justify their having 
robbed us. It is simply another case of the 
beam and the mote — only in this instance both 
our brother's eye and our own contain beams. 



CHAPTER X 

OPENING OF BOMBAEDMENT OF PARIS 

LATE in March my application for a 
transfer to another post was granted, 
and as I was worn out physically by my 
months of service in the field without a day of 
rest, months when I was working from dawn 
until late at night, I was ordered into Paris for 
a few days' rest. 

I reached Paris the night of March 21st and 
when I got to my hotel had a merry little row 
with the drunken taxi-driver. I mention this 
because the driver's antics became so ludicrous 
that I laughed heartily, and rejoiced to find 
that I had not lost the power of laughter. I 
had been having a strenuous time in the field, 
bombed often, working as I had never worked 
before and never expect to again, and burdened 
with many responsibilities and cares until I 

had almost forgotten how to laugh. But now 

174 



BOMBARDMENT OF PARIS 175 

I rejoiced to find a good " Ha, ha! " coming 
to my lips. 

There is always hope for a man who can 
laugh, and in a very few nights I was to learn 
as never before the power of laughter, how it 
could save one from the grip of terror. 

Also I want you to observe the date that I 
arrived in Paris — Thursday night, March 21, 
1918. Do you remember what important war 
move took place on that date? That was the 
day when the Germans launched their long- 
threatened spring drive toward Paris. I knew 
nothing of this when I left the field. The 
papers on the morning of March 22nd gave us 
the first news of the attack. 

Another important event connected with 
March 21st should be recorded. That night I 
was able to take a plunge in a real bath-tub, the 
first one in months. Think of it, a bath, and 
before me a week of freedom from peril and 
toil ! Small wonder that I sighed happily as I 
stretched out in bed. 

'Twas well I had my happiness in that hour, 
for Tragedy was soon to snatch it from me and 
make my " rest " a lively one. Within thirty- 



176 WITH SEEING EYES 

six hours one of the most startlmg events of the 
M^ar took place, and I was in its maelstrom. 

The next night, just twenty -four hours after 
my arrival in Paris, the Germans put over an 
air-raid, and the shrieking siren, crashing bombs 
and roar of the anti-aircraft guns caused me to 
wonder if, after all, my rest was to be as sweet 
as anticipation had painted it. But by this 
time I had grown accustomed to bombs and 
gunfire, and I gave the affair scant heed. Of 
course, all lights were out, and one had to grope 
his way about the hotel in total darkness. But 
darkness had come to be my usual night sur- 
roundings, and I accepted it complacently. 

When the raid was over I went to bed and 
slept sweetljT^ until morning, a day that will be 
written i)rominently in the history of the 
war. 

It was Saturday morning, March 23rd — the 
day when the German long-range cannon, 
afterward known as " Big Bertha," opened 
the bombardment of Paris, the most famous 
bombardment, all things considered, in the his- 
tory of the world. I heard the first shell that 
landed in the city, and was an observer of 



BOMBARDMENT OF PARIS 177 

events during the succeeding days of the first 
" instalhnent " of the bombardment. 

The day dawned cloudless, but during the 
early hours a haze hung over the city. Weary, 
I was lying abed late that morning, but was not 
asleep when at 8 : 30 an explosion sounded some 
distance away. Later I learned that the first 
shell had struck in front of the gare de Vest 
(a railway station), killed the old woman who 
sold papers there and wounded several. 

When I heard the explosion I was surprised 
and puzzled as to what it could be. A few 
moments later the fire-engines were tearing 
through the streets with shrieking sirens — the 
air-raid alarm. But I could not believe it. 
Going to the window I looked out and saw the 
sun shining brightly, no clouds in sight, and the 
haze lifting. It seemed absurd to think that 
the Germans could reach Paris in daylight, or 
that they would even attempt it. I returned 
to bed. 

Presently there came another crash. It was 
very odd. Going to the window again I looked 
doAvn and saw peoj)le standing in the streets, 
looking up into the sky. On the little veranda 



178 WITH SEEING EYES 

of the floor below me were several secretaries 
with upturned faces. I called down and asked 
if it was a raid, and they replied that it was. 

The haze was rapidly lifting. After stand- 
ing at the window a while I decided to dress, 
and while doing so I heard another explosion. 
Fritz certainly was audacious, I thought, to 
come a-raiding so far over the lines on a cloud- 
less morning. 

When I went into the dining-room for break- 
fast I found the French waitresses in a panic. 
Another secretary or two came in, and the 
French girls seemed astonished to think that 
Americans should think of wishing breakfast 
while the enemy was bombing us. 

'' Avians allemands! Avians allemands!" 
( " Gennan aeroplanes ! German aeroplanes ! " ) 
protested the girl at my table, wringing her 
hands. 

" Old, Old — avians allemands. Apportez- 
moi chocolat, du pain, du beurre, et confiture, 
s'il vous plait," ("Yes, yes — German aero- 
planes. Bring me chocolate, bread, butter, 
and jam, if you please,") I answered. 

The girl still wrung her hands. Looking 



BOMBARDMENT OF PARIS 179 

at me as if undecided as to whether or not I 
fully understood what was taking place, she 
tried again to impress me. 

"Boom! Boom! Boom!" she exclaimed, 
throwing up her arms after each " boom." An- 
other crash sounded from some place in the 
distance. ''OK la! la! Oh, la! la!" She 
turned and hurried to the kitchen. 

After breakfasting I went out into the 
streets, and found mystery everywhere. Ex- 
plosives were crashing at regailar intervals — 
every fifteen minutes — and no one could learn 
whence they came. When the first one struck, 
the officials had jumped to the conclusion that 
the Germans had really reached Paris with a 
daylight air-raid, seemingly the most improb- 
able thing imaginable. What else could it be 
but an air-raid? Were not explosives falling, 
and had not falling explosives always come 
from aeroplanes? Where else could they come 
from? It must be an air-raid. Thus they 
argued. 

But no one could see or hear any planes 
except the French scout-planes that soon 
were racing through the air, searching far 



i8o WITH SEEING EYES 

and wide for the enemy. A plane can be 
heard, even though it be so high as to be al- 
most invisible, and the sharpest ears could 
not detect the " z-uz-z-z — z-uz-z-z — z-uz-z-z " 
of German motors. 

All day long this continued, the explosions 
coming every fifteen minutes and in widely 
different sections of the city, so that one never 
laiew in what quarter might be heard the next 
crash that sowed death and suffering. It 
seemed utterly impossible that planes could 
hover above the city for so many hours with- 
out being found and destroyed by the French 
air-patrols. And yet, " Crash! " " Crash! " 
" Crash ! " they came almost as regularly as the 
watches ticked the j)assing of a quarter of an 
hour. 

The thing was uncanny, and terror gripped 
the people. The city became a hotbed of 
rumors, all of them fear-inspiring. Business 
was suspended almost completely, the subways 
stopped running, and people flocked to them 
for shelter, the banks were closed, and but few 
people were on the streets. One of the most 
persistent rumors was that the city was full of 



BOMBARDMENT OF PARIS i8i 

spies (Avhich undoubtedly was true), and that 
these spies were setting off time-bombs as a 
part of a gigantic plot to blow up the city and 
spread terror among the people back of the 
lines while the big drive now taking place 
hammered the fighting men on the western 
front. 

It was one of the worst days Paris experi- 
enced during the war. The mystery of the 
whole thing got on their nerves. No one knew 
the source of the bombs or shells — or whatever 
they were that came so regularly — and no one 
knew where death might strike next. The ex- 
plosives did not appear to be especially high- 
powered, but where they struck, holes were 
torn in the street, or a wall smashed in, or a 
roof caved in, and people were being killed by 
the mysterious something with which the city 
was being attacked. 

Armj'^ officers back from the front were as 
badly i3uzzled as civilians. That the explosives 
were not bombs I felt certain. I had heard too 
many of them " out there " to be fooled on that 
point. With this the army officers fully 
agreed. They declared the explosions were 



i82 WITH SEEING EYES 

not coming from bombs, but that they had the 
sound of shells. But this seemed to be utterly 
impossible. Whence could come a shell that 
landed in Paris, when the fighting line was then 
seventy-five miles distant from the city at the 
nearest point? Clearly impossible. 

All day the mysterious attack continued, but 
at 4:30 in the afternoon the buglers went 
through the streets sounding the "All clear " 
signal, proclaiming that the attack was at an 
end. The population of Paris then crawled 
out of the ahris and thronged the streets, dis- 
cussing the strange bombardment. 

When the evening papers were issued they 
bore the following official communique (state- 
ment) : 

"At 8220 this morning enemy aero- 
planes, flying at a great height, succeeded 
in crossing the lines and attacking Paris. 
They were immediately chased away by 
aviators from the Paris camp and those at 
the front. Several places where bombs 
have fallen have been reported. There 
are a few victims." 

People read this official statement — and 
marveled how the enemy had continued to 



BOMBARDMENT OF PARIS 183 

shower bombs on the city all day after being 
" immediately chased away," as the com- 
munique declared. Rumors flew faster than 
ever, and uneasiness deepened. The great 
German drive was smashing forward in spite 
of the most desperate resistance by the Allies, 
and now had come this attack on Paris, an 
attack that the official bulletin had made itself 
ridiculous in attempting to explain. 

It was the mystery of it that was unnerving 
the people. What strange and terrible thing 
had the Germans succeeded in bringing to pass 
now? Perhaps God was not with the boche, 
but it looked as if the devil were. 

Evening and night came on clear and beauti- 
ful, not a cloud in the sky, but a brilliant moon 
flooding the earth with light. It was an ideal 
night for an air-raid, and I felt perfectly cer- 
tain that the enemy would attack with aero- 
planes that night, no matter how they had at- 
tacked during the day. I had seen many raids 
while up in the field, but the two raids I had 
experienced in Paris had found me in my hotel 
where I had scant chance to study the first 
reaction of the masses ^^'hen the alarm sounded. 



i84 WITH SEEING EYES 

I determined to pick my observation-point 
for the raid I was certain would be upon us 
before many hours. I went out on the streets 
and finally chose a place near the Opera, on one 
of the most prominent boulevards of Paris. I 
located myself in the doorway of a store that 
was closed for the evening, and waited. 

The people seemed unusually light-hearted 
that night, undoubtedly the nervous reaction 
of the strain under which they had been during 
the day. The sidewalks and streets were 
crowded. The girls of the streets were as busy 
as bees, plying their immoral solicitations, the 
moving-picture theatres were crowded, the 
cafes were doing a rushing business, all of the 
little tables on the sidewalks being occupied by 
women and men, among the latter being sol- 
diers of many different nations. Trucks and 
taxis filled the streets. War seemed an un- 
heard-of thing. 

And then suddenly it came ! 

There was a wild, wailing shriek of a fire- 
engine siren and the scene changed instantly. 
It was as if a sudden blow had paralyzed one 
channel of life and had turned all activity into 



BOMBARDMENT OF PARIS 185 

another. The expression on the faces changed 
as quickly as the winking of an eye. Instead 
of the hint of gayety, there was now " the 
pallid flag of fear " everywhere. Beneath the 
paint and powder and other " camouflage " the 
faces of the girls of the streets became paler 
than usual. With the first sound of the warn- 
ing siren they turned from their intended vic- 
tims and ran pell-mell for shelter. 

The sidewalks became congested with wildly 
hurrying mobs, everybody struggling to get 
somewhere else in a hurry. Autos and wagons 
filled the streets, taxis honking desperately to 
clear for themselves a pathway; men waved 
canes and arms at taxi-drivers and shrieked 
offers of bribes to induce the drivers to stop and 
pick them up. The cafes closed immediately; 
the drinkers at the little tables on the sidewalks 
arose and fled, while the waiters hastily piled 
up the chairs and lowered the protecting 
shutters. Women shrilled at children; and 
men, standing and looking upAvard for a mo- 
ment, cursed savagelyo 

The theatres flashed, "Alerte! Ahri!" 
("Quick! Shelter!") The word "alerte'' 



i86 WITH SEEING EYES 

is usually used as meaning an alarm. Imme- 
diately the orchestras began playing " Tine 
Marseillaise" and the audiences poured out 
into the streets. The siren was still wailing. 

Overhead, a wonderful moon smiled down 
on the scene of pandemonium. 



CHAPTER XI 

THE TRUTH ABOUT ^'BIG BERTHA" 

IT seemed to me that siren would never 
stilL 

I walked along the streets, down the 
Avenue de I'Opera and the Boulevard des 
Capucines, studying the scenes of flight and 
terror. If it is told you that Paris gave no 
heed to these night-raids, the teller is a mis- 
taken enthusiast. Never a raid came that did 
not strike terror to the city. It was natural 
that it should be so. I have faced death in 
more than one form, but one's utter helpless- 
ness in an air-raid emphasizes the fear of death 
that is an attribute of all human beings — ex- 
cept idiots and liars. One may look into the 
face of death and remain outwardly calm — 
even smiling — but that there are those who 
never know fear I do not for one moment 
believe. Fear of death is not synonymous 
with cowardice. 

The Metro trains (subways) had again 
187 



i88 WITH SEEING EYES 

stopped, and the stations had quickly filled 
with people seeking shelter; not only the sta- 
tions, but far into the tunnels the tracks were 
crowded with men, women and children, the 
electric power having been turned off, so that 
there was no danger from the rails. 

A group of American soldiers came out of a 
moving-picture theatre, storming mad because 
they had paid their money and had not seen 
much of the show. 

" I've been trying for two nights to see that 
picture," one of them said to me, as we walked 
down the street together. "Last night they 
sounded the alarm when I was in there, and I 
had to beat it. I went back to-night, and the 
picture got a little farther along, but just as 
the hero guy grabs his girl and begins to kiss 
her — zip goes the ' alerte ' and buddy and me 
had to drill out again to ' The Marseillaise/ " 

A scout-plane roared by overhead again, 
with its green and white signals blinking mes- 
sages to those who could read them. The sol- 
diers turned off and I continued my way. An 
American army officer, a captain, stood on the 
curb, angrily smiting his puttee with a cane. 



THE TRUTH ABOUT " BIG BERTHA " 189 

Our eyes met. I saluted and smiled at him. 
He returned the salute and nodded in a very 
human way. 

" Damn them! " he growled. " This makes 
me tired. I'd rather be back at the front than 
here." 

I said something intended to sympathize and 
agree with him, for, in truth, it was the experi- 
ence of most that they preferred the front to 
the uncertainties of Paris during the raids and 
bombardments. Out at the front when Fritz 
put over a raid or bombardment we knew about 
what he was trying to hit, and we knew where 
to go and what to do to have the best chance 
for safety. The Germans simply bombed and 
shelled Paris at random, murdering in the hope 
of breaking down the spirit of the French, and 
one was as apt to run into death as he was to 
run away from it. The nearest shelter was 
the best, always, even though the bombs or 
shells were for the moment falling in an- 
other section of the city. In a breath they 
might be crashing about where one was stand- 
ing in fancied remoteness from the danger. 

" I hate to run from the devils," said the 



I90 WITH SEEING EYES 

captain, " but what can a man do with a cane 
against a bomb? It isn't cowardice to seek 
shelter as these people are doing. It's the 
only sensible thing to do." 

" Sure," I assented. " I've seen some bomb- 
ing? and that shrapnel is bad medicine. Shelter 
is the sensible thing, as you say." I took an- 
other look at the sky, and then turned to him 
again. " But you are still on the curb," I 
added, significantly. 

" Yes," he growled, with a flicker of a smile. 
" It's because I hate to run from the devils. 
But it's the sensible thing to do, so I'll take my 
own medicine. But I'll get even some day." 

We saluted each other and he turned and 
walked away, and I knew that if that captain 
could have had a chance to lead a company 
over the top right then he would have yelled 
for joy. 

Back at my hotel, I found a group of secre- 
taries congregated in the street in front, all 
faces upward, of course. In fact, I began to 
fear that if the war continued many months 
longer the back of my head would grow to my 
spinal column and I would have to get down 



THE TRUTH ABOUT " BIG BERTHA " 191 

on my hands and knees to look straight ahead. 
By this time we could hear guns and bombs at 
a distance. I decided to take another ramble. 

Over the Church of the Madeleine I could 
hear the loud drone of a French motor, and as 
I looked upward I was startled to see a great 
ball of fire burst out in the sky and go zigzag- 
ging and circling around in a crazy sort of way. 
It was something new to me. Four or five 
French heads were peeking out of a cellar at 
the edge of the sidewalk, and I knew enough 
French to ask, " Quest-ce que c'est? "' (" What 
is it?") Out of the profuse outpouring of 
their replies I gathered the information that it 
was some kind of signal dropped by one of the 
planes. It did not fall to earth, but went 
rambling through the air as if guided by a 
drunken man. 

Going back to the boulevards I found tHem 
entirely deserted now. No longer were the taxis 
and wagons dashing through the streets; for 
long distances one could not see a human being, 
and heard no voices except the indistinct mur- 
murs coming from cellarways and other places 
of shelter. Only an occasional roar of bomb or 



192 WITH SEEING EYES 

gun reverberated across the city, and the indi- 
cations were that the raid had been fought off. 

An hour and a half after the alarm had been 
given, the bugles sounded the "All clear " sig- 
nal, which was taken up by the church-bells all 
over the city, a new signal agreed upon to an- 
nounce the end of a raid, and with the sound of 
the joyously ringing church-bells in my ears I 
went to bed and to sleep. 

I had told myself that I would take a late 
sleep the next morning — Sunday. But I 
didn't. In those days one might decide to do 
thus or so, but whether or not he ever did it de- 
pended largely upon how Fritz acted. And 
on that morning Fritz willed that I should not 
sleep. 

At seven o'clock that morning, Sunday, 
March 24th, I was awakened by the same wail- 
ing siren alarm. I listened to the siren, but 
decided that I was doing very well where I was, 
so I closed my eyes and was just dropping off 
to sleep when " Bang! " went the opening of 
the day's bombardment. I stuck to the bed, 
but fifteen minutes later another explosion 
sounded rather near — and I decided to get up. 



THE TRUTH ABOUT " BIG BERTHA " 193 

Going into the dining-room for breakfast, I 
found the waitresses in the usual state of panic, 
but all this was forgotten when I picked up 
the morning paper and read that the mysteri- 
ous attack on Paris the day before — and now 
beginning again — was not from the air, as had 
been supposed, but that the city had been bom- 
barded by some marvelous gun firing from a 
distance of seventy-five miles. 

It will be remembered that the first official 
communique stated that the city had been at- 
tacked by aeroplanes, and that " they were im- 
mediately chased away by aviators from the 
Paris camp and those at the front." With that 
statement in memory one could not but smile a 
wee bit when he now read the second official 
communique concerning the mysterious affair 
of the day before. The second statement 
said: 

" The enemy has bombarded Paris with 
a long-range gun. From eight in the 
morning, every quarter of an hour, shells 
fell into the capital and outskirts of the 
city. There were ten people killed and 
fifteen injured. Steps have been taken to 
combat the enemy's long-range gun." 



194 WITH SEEING EYES 

The communiques I have quoted are the of- 
ficial translations of the official statements 
issued in the French language. The first one 
stated that " aviators from Paris and the front 
had chased the enemy away " (even though the 
explosions continued all day), and the second 
one admitted that aviators had not chased away 
any enemy ; in fact, admitted that no enemy was 
near, as the bombardment was coming from a 
point behind the lines seventy -five miles away. 

I should like to remark in passing that this 
is the only instance I ever discovered where an 
official statement was false. 

The announcement of the true nature of the 
bombardment we were undergoing was dum- 
founding. Paris was amazed, and the news 
that flashed around the world was greeted with 
incredulity. Paris bombarded from a distance 
of seventy-five miles? Impossible! Only a 
Jules Verne mind could invent such a 
storyo 

The world said it was one of the canards of 
the war. Paris was uncertain what to believe. 
Personally, I was certain of one thing, and that 
was that the city had not been attacked by 



THE TRUTH ABOUT " BIG BERTHA " 195 

aeroplanes the day before, I had become 
rather intimately acquainted with bombs and I 
asserted my conviction that we were not being 
and had not been bombed, except at night. 
Those affairs clearly were air-raids. 

Obtaining breakfast was again a difficult 
matter, as the girls were looking anxiously to- 
ward the stairs leading to the cellar. 

" Bon jour. Monsieur/' said the waitress at 
my table, tremulously, her native politeness 
asserting itself in spite of her fright. An ex- 
plosion sounded not far away, reverberating 
ominously through the dining-room. '' Oh, 
la! la! " she exclaimed, clasping her hands. 
" Pas avions! Les Allemands avez les gros 
canons! " (" Not aeroplanes! The Germans 
have big cannon ! " ) 

" Oil, la! la! " is a favorite exclamation with 
the French, It is so expressive that it hardly 
needs interpretation. 

During my breakfast another shell burst 
somewhere in the city, but I was comforted by 
the fact that it was much farther away than the 
others had been that morning. However, I 
knew full well that this was no indication that 



196 WITH SEEING EYES 

the next one would not come crashing through 
the room where I sat. 

After breakfasting and writing some letters 
I started out for a walk over the city to observe 
the attitude of Paris on this second day of bom- 
bardment. To my surprise I found the people 
in an entirely different state of mind from the 
day before. The fright of our dining-room 
waitresses was the only instance that I saw of 
terror on this second day — or on any succeed- 
ing day of the bombardment. Indeed, they 
seemed to accept it with a calmer spirit than 
they did the night air-raids. 

Yesterday the people were in a panic, un- 
questionably largely due to the mystery of the 
attack and the wild rumors that resulted. To- 
day their panic was gone, a state of affairs just 
as unquestionably due to the fact that the mys- 
tery had been removed. It was a terrible 
crisis they must meet — yes ; but after all, it was 
a cannon that was firing at them, and they un- 
derstood a cannon. The mystery had been 
solved. They would face this new form of 
murder with the same spirit with which they 
had faced other attacks on their morale. 



THE TRUTH ABOUT " BIG BERTHA " 197 

And so on this Sabbath morning the walks 
were crowded with people and the streets were 
filled with traffic while the foe from a point 
seventy-five miles away poured shells into the 
city. The day was a perfect one, without a 
cloud in the sky, the air balmy. The little 
tables on the walks in front of the cafes were 
all taken by men, women and children who 
sipped their drinks and chatted brightly, laugh- 
ing and shrugging their shoulders when the 
crash of a shell was heard. One could scarcely 
believe that the city was undergoing the crud- 
est and most remarkable bombardment in the 
world's history. 

A noticeable difference between the Paris of 
that day and the Paris I had first loiown was 
that in December the city was filled with 
American soldiers, while but few were to be 
seen there now. 

As I made my way along, studying the peo- 
ple and the situation in general a shell exploded 
not far from me with a terrific crash. I felt 
the ground rock beneath my feet and the beat- 
ing of violent waves of air against my cheek. 
I staggered a bit, and then ran toward where 



198 WITH SEEING EYES 

the others were runnmg, to see where the shell 
had struck. Miraculous as it seems, no one 
was killed or injured by this explosion. The 
shell had struck m the corner of some store- 
rooms, had torn out a section of the wall and 
exploded in the basement, marking adjacent 
buildings with shrapnel and flying bits from 
the wreckage, but injuring no one. 

As a matter of fact, there is no doubt what- 
ever that this bombardment of Paris was not 
undertaken with the idea of battering down the 
city, nor of inflicting heavy casualties on the 
population. The bombardment was planned 
and carried out with the design of breaking the 
nerve of the people, of destroying that almost 
indefinable something known as " morale." ' 

The shells were not the terrible high-ex- i 
plosive ones, as high explosives were known in 
the field. They traveled high in the air and 
descended at a sharp angle, piercing walls, of 
course, where they struck, or tearing great 
holes in the street, and death or injury or both 
usually resulted from their explosions, but, 
nevertheless, there is no question but that the 
principal thought of the Germans in opening 



THE TRUTH ABOUT " BIG BERTHA " 199 

fire on Paris was to strike terror. They be- 
lieved that with the big drive sweeping forward 
as it was they could conquer the people behind 
the lines with this amazing bombardment, and 
that with their victorious armies driving the 
Allies before them in the field and their long- 
range cannon pouring shells into the beloved 
Paris the people would lose their nerve and 
shriek for an armistice and peace. 

The Germans figured thus because they knew 
full well that such would be the effect upon 
themselves had conditions been reversed. If 
any one thing was proven more clearly than 
any other during the war it was that the Ger- 
mans could not stand punishment. 

They were ready to face almost certain death 
in massed attacks so long as they were winning ; 
massed together and drawing a kind of courage 
from this sense of brute power, they were ter- 
rible in their war lust. Bombing French cities 
and villages and gassing unprotected and un- 
suspecting soldiers afforded them no end of 
swaggering, brutal pleasure — so long as they 
had their foe almost helpless before these at- 
tacks, as they did in the early period of such 



200 WITH SEEING EYES 

affairs. But a study of the war will prove 
that in every instance when these things were 
turned against them the Germans squealed like 
pigs. 

So it was that out of their own natures they 
conceived the idea that a long-range bombard- 
ment would cause terrorized pleas for mercy, 
and this, of course, meant an armistice and a 
German peace. 

But the French did nothing of the kind. 
The air-raids struck terror to the city — ^yes ; the 
mystery of the bombardment plunged Paris 
into a panic the first day — yes ; the succeeding 
days of the bombardment brought with them 
their measure of terror — yes; but the spirit of 
the French could not be crushed by the death 
that flew hj night or that came crashing out of 
clear skies by day. They gritted their teeth 
and smiled while the shells and bombs fell all 
about them. 

And out there in the fighting lines the gal- 
lant poilus, hearing of the bombardment of 
their beloved Paris, fought the more deter- 
minedly, resisting foot by foot the crushing 
onrolling masses of the enemy, and dying with 



THE TRUTH ABOUT " BIG BERTHA " 201 

their last breaths still gasping in defiance, " lis 
ne passeront pas! " (" They shall not pass!"), 

True it is that in those days many thousands 
of people fled from Paris. Men sent their 
wives and children out of the city for safety, 
and thousands of men left, also. Why not? 
Why should one remain and tempt death if 
there were no need for it? Night and day 
death held carnival in the city, and there was 
every indication that the situation would grow 
worse instead of better. There was no thought 
of crying, " Enough ! " No one suggested that 
it was time to ask the foe for peace terms. 
Thousands left the city for places of safety, 
but the morale of the French was unbroken, 
and there was only one thought — to endure and 
fight on. 

During the weeks that followed, this big gun 
was the weapon of some atrocious murders. 
The two that aroused the most indignation and 
horror throughout the civilized world were the 
striking of the Church of St. Gervais and the 
striking of a creche (a maternity hospital) on 
April 12th, 

The Church of St. Gervais was struck bv a 



202 WITH SEEING EYES 

German shell on March 29th, Good Friday, 
during the services. Seventy-five persons were 
killed and ninety were wounded, many of the 
deaths and injuries being due to the collapsing 
of portions of the church and not to the victims 
having been killed by the shell itself. Of 
course, this did not lessen the guilt of the Ger- 
mans, but accounts for the .unusual number of 
deaths from one shell. Of those killed in this 
church, fifty-four were women. 

This aroused such indignation that the Pope 
sent a protest to Berlin. 

The maternity hospital in Paris was struck 
by a shell and four two-days-old babies and one 
woman were killed and twenty- four women in- 
jured. Many women in travail were hurled 
from their beds. Premier Clemenceau visited 
the creche the day after the shelling and pinned 
the croioc de guerre upon the breast of Madame 
Lair, the midwife who was mortally wounded 
by the German shell. 

Perhaps this slaughter of new-born babes 
created more horror than did any other result 
of the "Big Bertha " bombardment. 

Later the Church of the Madeleine was also 



THE TRUTH ABOUT '* BIG BERTHA " 203 

struck by a shell, but the missile landed on the 
broad stone approach at the rear of the church 
and injured no one. A great hole was torn in 
the stone floor where the ..'ell struck, and fly- 
ing fragments deeply gashed the rear wall of 
the church, one fragment beheading one of the 
statues adorning the rear wall. The head of 
this statue was clipped off as cleanly as if by a 
knife, and no other portion of the figure was 
touched. 

Concerning the gun itself that astounded the 
world I beg leave to submit two articles that 
give interesting details. One is from a Ger- 
man illustrated paper, Die Woche (" The 
Week") and the other is from the Paris edition 
of the London Daily Mail. 

In Die Woche of June 29, 1918, Baron 
George Von Omteda contributed an article on 
the long-range guns that fired on Paris. A 
copy of Die Woche was received by the Temps, 
a Paris paper, and the article in question 
copied. The German writer said in the article 
that it was not a smgle gun that fired, but a 
series of guns, " some of which are still held in 
reserve." (Remember that this article was 



204 WITH SEEING EYES 

written and published in June, long after the 
opening of the bombardment, but while it was 
still proceeding, spasmodically.) The writer 
declared that if it should be necessary, Krupp's 
Works, which constructed these guns, could 
make others. " However," he added, " only 
the number of guns absolutely necessary will 
be constructed, owing to the enormous require- 
ments and difficulties entailed." 
Continuing, he wrote: 

" Many of the particulars given by the 
French concerning the gun are near the truth. 
Naturally the gun has a very long bore, be- 
cause a certain time must elapse before the 
shell can acquire the abnormal initial velocity 
necessary to carry it rapidly through the atmos- 
phere into space. The final velocity is prob- 
ably greater than in the case of other shells, 
but is less than its o\^1lI initial velocity. To 
make the shell travel through as little air as 
possible the gun is inclined at the greatest pos- 
sible angle. 

" The layman probably imagines that owing 
to the enormous initial velocity the shell will 
be made red hot by the friction of the air. Such 
is not the case. The cooling effect of the air 
prevents it, and at the great height reached by 
the shell a very low temperature prevails. 



THE TRUTH ABOUT "BIG BERTHA" 205 

Calculations made on meteors by astronomers 
have given indications of atmospheric condi- 
tions at great heights, and these have served as 
a basis for the calculations of ' the Paris gun.' 
" The gun is not only the result of science, 
but also more particularly of the experience of 
several decades and of experiments with raw 
materials and labor which only a single firm, 
Krupp's, could put at the service of the Father- 
land. The circumstances which have contrib- 
uted to the invention are so numerous that it is 
impossible for the enemy easily and rapidly to 
imitate it. There are also many scientific 
factors which can only be determined by long 
trials. The gun is not so colossal as fancy 
often depicts it." 

In conclusion the writer stated that the gun 
was invented by Professor Rausenberger, a 
major in the reserve of the Saxon army. His 
efforts were ably seconded by Krupp's with its 
engineers and workmen and by Admiral 
Rogge, of the German Admiralty, who di- 
rected the trials. Lastly, it was stated, Cap- 
tain Wiegand, a General Staff officer, was 
responsible for placing the gun in position and 
for the measures of protection and defense. 

That the above statements in the German 



2o6 WITH SEEING EYES 

illustrated weekly were true is quite probable. 
Nothing has ever been made public concern- 
ing " Big Bertha," as the gun soon became 
laiown, that would refute the article by the 
Baron. The name " Big Bertha " was be- 
stowed upon the gun because it was immedi- 
ately recognized that it must have been made 
by the Krupp Works, owned by Bertha Krupp. 
On April 21, 1918, a little less than a month 
after the opening of the bombardment, the 
London Daily Mail published the following: 

" Sir Robert Hadfield, at the Society of 
British Gas Industries, showed specimens of 
steel — parts of one of the shells fired by the 
Germans into Paris — which had been in the 
air at a height of twenty miles. The weight 
of the shell, he said, was estimated at 350 
pounds. In order to get the enormous range 
required the muzzle velocity of the shell must 
be about 4,600 foot-seconds, and the pressure 
inside the gun was about twenty-eight tons per 
square inch. At the muzzle of the gun a shell 
at that velocity would perforate six feet of 
wrought iron, or about fifty-four inches of 
mild steel, and when the shell left the gun it 
would have locked up in it as much energy as 
our fifteen-inch shell. There was nothing ex- 



THE TRUTH ABOUT " BIG BERTHA " 207 

traordinary in this accomplishment, as we had 
guns of double the energy, and the late Sir 
Andrew Noble produced a velocity of 5,000 
foot-seconds." 

Thus one gets some scientific information 
concerning the remarkable gun that on this 
INIarch morning was startling the civilized 
world — and shaking the ground beneath my 
feet. 



CHAPTER XII 

THE POWER OF A LAUGH 

THE bombardment of Paris continued 
that day, Sunday, until about 1 : 30 in 
the afternoon, and then the shelhng 
ceased. 

At 3: 40 the buglers went through the 
streets sounding the "All clear " signal, though 
I wondered how the officials could determine 
that a gun hidden seventy-five miles away was 
going to " stay stopped." My guess was that 
because no shells had fallen for about two 
hours it was concluded — as a bit of mere con- 
jecture — that the Germans had ceased firing 
for the day. 

That mine was not a wild guess was proven 
when at six o'clock that evening the Germans 
sent two more shells into the city, I have no 
doubt whatever that the Germans were smart 
enough to believe that after a few hours of 

silence the French would decide that the bom- 

208 



THE POWER OF A LAUGH 209 

bardment was ended for the day and would 
sound the "All clear " signal, and so as a bit 
of mockery they sent the two into the city at 
six that evening. 

Unquestionably the Germans wished to in- 
still as much uncertainty as possible into the 
French mind. They were psychologists 
enough to realize that a set program of shelling 
would not have the demoralizing effect that an 
irregular bombardment would have. Thus it 
was that as the days and weeks went by the 
bombardment would take place for a day or 
two at a time at irregular intervals (after the 
first two days) after which it would cease for 
perhaps one day, perhaps two days, perhaps a 
week. Then it would open again, miexpect- 
edly. For a time they shelled the city at night. 
As a result of this uncertainty the nerve strain 
was continuous and far more telling than it 
would have been had the enemj^ been regular 
in his shelling, 

I was in my room in the hotel when the "All 
clear " signal sounded that Sunday afternoon, 
and I went to the window and looked out. 
Below me I could see people clapping their 



2IO WITH SEEING EYES 

hands, while in the streets children joined hands 
and circled about, singing happily. There was 
a time when I would have smiled at their dem- 
onstrations of joy, but I had had enough 
experience with bombs and shells by this time 
to rob me of any inclination to smile, except in 
relief. Indeed, I felt more like joining in the 
handclapping and the songs of the children. 
It was a wonderful relief to be freed from the 
sound of those shells and to feel that for a few 
hours, at least, there would be no more at- 
tacks. 

What a strange feeling it was, to be shelled 
by an enemy seventy-five miles away, an enemy 
that it would require the fastest railroad train 
an hour and a half or two hours to reach ! 

" Well, that one missed me," one would say 
to himself as a shell or bomb exploded. " I 

wonder if ? " And in the " if " there was 

uncertainty. One never knew where the next 
one would hit. 

That the city would be subjected to an air- 
raid that night I did not doubt, as the sky 
remained cloudless. However, with the ex- 
ception of the two shells that fell about six 



THE POWER OF A LAUGH 211 

o'clock there was no alarm after the "All clear" 
signal had sounded until — but that is getting a 
little ahead of my story. 

The evening passed- without incident, al- 
though we momentarily expected a raid. But 
even without an attack our spirits were not 
gay, for the evening dispatches had brought 
grave news of the smashing success of the Ger- 
man drive. That day the Huns had driven 
forward in a way that boded ill for the Allies. 
This was the fourth day of the drive, and it 
seemed impossible to stop them. Despondency 
was our lot that Sunday evening. 

Ten o'clock came, and no raid, so I decided 
to go to bed and get what sleep I could. I had 
come into Paris for a rest, but so far rest had 
been denied me, as I had been routed out of 
bed each night by air-raids and had been shelled 
each day but one since arriving in the city. 

I was worn out with my field ^^^ork, my 
defective-heart inheritance from my Spanish 
War days was showing signs of trouble, my 
nervous system was badly run do^\Ti, and I 
needed rest. Evidently Fritz would not be 
over to-night, so I entered the little auto- 



212 WITH SEEING EYES 

matic electric lift, pushed a button and was 
taken to the floor on which my room was 
located. 

May! remark in passing that it seemed to 
me that these " lifts," as the elevators ai'e called 
in France, and also in the British Isles, are well 
named. At least most of those in France are, 
for as a rule they will carry only four, and 
people are forbidden to ride down. One rides 
up, but he must come down by the stairway. I 
do not understand the mechanical construction 
sufficiently to explain the reason, but I know 
that placards forbade using the lifts for de- 
scent. A touch on a button, of course, sends 
them down. 

Soon I was asleep, but in the midst of dreams 
of home I was awakened by the heavy anti- 
aircraft guns. "Boom!" "Boom!" "Boom!" 
they roared out into the night. I snapped on 
the light and looked at my watch. It was ten 
minutes till one. 

" Crash! " came the unmistakable explosion 
of a bomb. Then " R-r-oo-oo-m-b — crash!" 
came another much nearer, followed in a mo- 
ment by others, interspersed with the thunder 



THE POWER OF A LAUGH 213 

of the ground batteries in action. We were 
being raided again. 

At the same time the usual wail of the siren 
was heard in the streets, but this time the raid- 
ers seemed to have reached the city before being 
discovered, so that the siren was not needed. 
The bombs and shells were doing their own 
advertising. But the engines raced through 
the streets as usual. 

" There goes Paul Revere once more," I 
remarked to my roommate, a secretary occupy- 
ing another single bed in the room. He 
growled in return. 

"B-00-oo-m!" "Crash!" "R-r-oo-oo-m-b ! " 
The guns and bombs were raising a prettj?^ row. 
" O-ee-e-e-e-ow-ee-00-o-o-ee-ow-ee! " shrieked 
the siren. 

AMi}^ not tell the truth now, as I have told 
it all through this volume? I was scared — 
scared " green," to use an expression common 
with us over there. I had slept just long 
enough for my nerves utterly to relax; my 
vitality was at its lowest ebb; I was worn and 
frazzled in strength and had been sent here to 
rest and recuperate. I had undergone the 



214 WITH SEEING EYES 

other raids and the two days of bombardment 
with more or less sang-froid. But now, com- 
ing out of a sound sleep at one in the morning, 
my nerves as loose and floppy as old fiddle- 
strings, I lost my grip entirely and for the 
time being I was very badly shaken with fright. 

A cold sweat broke out on me. It seemed 
that each explosion was coming closer to me, 
and I lay there trying to calculate about how 
long, at the rate of approach they were main- 
taining, it would be before the inferno of bombs 
would be upon me. The thing had become 
more than an interesting experience to be treas- 
ured and related later to friends across the 
sea. It had become grim and hellish. 

The night was otherwise still, and the crash- 
ing of bombs and gunfire sounded with unusual 
distinctness. And still that siren shrieked. 
If only it would hush, I thought, the thing 
might be more endurable. 

I wiped the perspiration from my cold brow; 
I thought of home and loved ones, and wished 
that I were back there once more. Doesn't 
Kipling have Tommy Atkins say, " I ain't no 
bloomin' 'ero " ? I am not positive that he 



THE POWER OF A LAUGH 215 

does, but if Kipling doesn't say it let me do so. 
I " ain't." Just then I didn't want to be any 
" bloomin' 'ero," either. I had no desire for 
croicv de guerre or any other kind of decoration 
for valor. I wanted that siren to be still; I 
wanted the bombing to cease; I wanted the 
Germans to go away; I wanted peace and 
safety — and plenty of them. 

I felt that my time had come, and I found 
myself wondering whether I would be blown 
to bits by the bombs or merely crushed to death 
by the collapse of the building. My room- 
mate was up and dressing, but I decided to lie 
still and die in bed. 

"Aren't you going to get up? " he asked. 

" No," I answered. " No, I think I'll stay 
where I am." 

" Oh, get up and die with your boots on," 
he said, in jest. But the bantering was en- 
tirely without relish for me, even though I 
jested in return. The fact that I did so is 
certain proof that a man can laugh and joke 
even though he be in great terror, for I know 
that I was as badly frightened as any man 
could be — and yet my pride forced me to con- 



2i6 WITH SEEING EYES 

ceal it by joking with my companion. Per- 
haps he was as fear-struck as I. Who knows? 
Poor fellow. Six weeks later he was terribly 
wounded by shell-fire while serving in the field. 

Finally I decided to get up, also. But while 
I was dressing I was still in the grip of the 
terror that had seized me. Now and then the 
building seemed to quiver with the shock of the 
exploding bombs. 

The hotel where I was stopping was the 
Gibraltar, a hotel for " Y " secretaries ex- 
clusively — for the newly arrived men awaiting 
assignment to the field, and for those back on 
rest periods. Upon retiring at night we al- 
ways placed our shoes in the hallway beside 
our door to be polished, as is the custom with all 
French and other European hotels. 

Another thundering roar close at hand, and 
with my heart trying to jump out of my mouth 
I opened the door and reached out to get my 
shoes. As I did so I glanced down the hall- 
way, and here and there from other doorways 
I saw other arms grabbing frantically for shoes. 
The scene struck me as extremely ludicrous — 
one o'clock in the morning, bombs crashing, 



THE TRUTH ABOUT " BIG BERTHA " 201 

their last breaths still gasping in defiance, " lis 
ne passeront pas! " ( " They shall not pass ! " ) 

True it is that in those days many thousands 
of people fled from Paris. Men sent their 
wives and children out of the city for safety, 
and thousands of men left, also. Why not? 
Why should one remain and tempt death if 
there were no need for it? Night and day 
death held carnival in the city, and there was 
every indication that the situation would grow 
worse instead of better. There was no thought 
of crying, " Enough ! " No one suggested that 
it was time to ask the foe for peace terms. 
Thousands left the city for places of safety, 
but the morale of the French was unbroken, 
and there was only one thought — to endure and 
fight on. 

During the weeks that followed, this big gun 
was the weapon of some atrocious murders. 
The two that aroused the most indignation and 
horror throughout the civilized world were the 
striking of the Church of St. Gervais and the 
striking of a creche (a maternity hospital) on 
April 12tho 

The Church of St. Gervais was struck by a 



202 WITH SEEING EYES 

German shell on March 29th, Good Friday, 
during the services. Seventy-five persons were 
killed and ninety were wounded, many of the 
deaths and injuries being due to the collapsing 
of portions of the church and not to the victims 
having been killed by the shell itself. Of 
course, this did not lessen the guilt of the Ger- 
mans, but accounts for the unusual number of 
deaths from one shell. Of those killed in this 
church, fifty-four were women. 

This aroused such indignation that the Pope 
sent a protest to Berlin. 

The maternity hospital in Paris was struck 
by a shell and four two-days-old babies and one 
woman were killed and twenty-four women in- 
jured. Many women in travail were hurled 
from their beds. Premier Clemenceau visited 
the creche the day after the shelling and pinned 
the croioc de guerre upon the breast of Madame 
Lair, the midwife who was mortally wounded 
by the German shell. 

Perhaps this slaughter of new-born babes 
created more horror than did any other result 
of the "Big Bertha " bombardment. 

Later the Church of the Madeleine was also 



THE TRUTH ABOUT " BIG BERTHA " 203 

struck by a shell, but the missile landed on the 
broad stone approach at the rear of the church 
and injured no one. A great hole was torn in 
the stone floor where the shell struck, and fly- 
ing fragments deeply gashed the rear wall of 
the church, one fragment beheading one of the 
statues adorning the rear wall. The head of 
this statue was clipped off as cleanly as if by a 
knife, and no other portion of the figure was 
touched. 

Concerning the gun itself that astounded the. 
world I beg leave to submit two articles that 
give interesting details. One is from a Ger- 
man illustrated paper. Die Woche ("The 
Week") and the other is from the Paris edition 
of the London Daily Mail, 

In Die Woche of June 29, 1918, Baron 
George Von Omteda contributed an article on 
the long-range guns that fired on Paris. A 
copy of Die Woche was received by the Temps, 
a Paris paper, and the article in question 
copied. The German writer said in the article 
that it was not a single gun that fired, but a 
series of guns, " some of which are still held in 
reserve." (Remember that this article was 



204 WITH SEEING EYES 

written and published in June, long after the 
opening of the bombardment, but while it was 
still proceeding, spasmodically.) The writer 
declared that if it should be necessary, Krupp's 
Works, which constructed these guns, could 
make others. " However," he added, " only 
the number of guns absolutely necessary will 
be constructed, owing to the enormous require- 
ments and difficulties entailed." 
Continuing, he wrote: 

" Many of the particulars given by the 
French concerning the gun are near the truth. 
Naturally the gun has a very long bore, be- 
cause a certain time must elapse before the 
shell can acquire the abnormal initial velocity 
necessary to carry it rapidly through the atmos- 
phere into space. The final velocity is prob- 
ably greater than in the case of other shells, 
but is less than its own initial velocity. To 
make the shell travel through as little air as 
possible the gun is inclined at the greatest pos- 
sible angle. 

" The layman probably imagines that owing 
to the enormous initial velocity the shell will 
be made red hot by the friction of the air. Such 
is not the case. The cooling effect of the air 
prevents it, and at the great height reached by 
the shell a very low temperature prevails. 



THE TRUTH ABOUT "BIG BERTHA" 205 

Calculations made on meteors by astronomers 
have given indications of atmospheric condi- 
tions at great heights, and these have served as 
a basis for the calculations of ' the Paris gun.' 
" The gun is not only the result of science, 
but also more particularly of the experience of 
several decades and of experiments with raw 
materials and labor which only a single firm, 
Krupp's, could put at the service of the Father- 
land. The circumstances which have contrib- 
uted to the invention are so numerous that it is 
impossible for the enemy easily and rapidly to 
imitate it. There are also many scientific 
factors which can only be determined by long 
trials. The gun is not so colossal as fancy 
often depicts it." 

In conclusion the writer stated that the gun 
was invented by Professor Rausenberger, a 
major in the reserve of the Saxon army. His 
efforts were ably seconded by Krupp's with its 
engineers and workmen and by Admiral 
Rogge, of the German Admiralty, who di- 
rected the trials. Lastly, it was stated. Cap- 
tain Wiegand, a General Staff officer, was 
responsible for placing the gun in position and 
for the measures of protection and defense. 

That the above statements in the German 



2o6 WITH SEEING EYES 

illustrated weekly were true is quite probable. 
Nothing has ever been made public concern- 
ing " Big Bertha," as the gun soon became 
laiown, that would refute the article by the 
Baron. The name " Big Bertha " was be- 
stowed upon the gun because it was immedi- 
ately recognized that it must have been made 
by the Krupp Works, owned by Bertha Krupp. 
On April 21, 1918, a little less than a month 
after the opening of the bombardment, the 
London Daily Mail published the following: 

" Sir Robert Hadfield, at the Society of 
British Gas Industries, showed specimens of 
steel — parts of one of the shells fired by the 
Germans into Paris — which had been in the 
air at a height of twenty miles. The weight 
of the shell, he said, was estimated at 350 
pounds. In order to get the enormous range 
required the muzzle velocity of the shell must 
be about 4,600 foot-seconds, and the pressure 
inside the gun was about twenty-eight tons per 
square inch. At the muzzle of the gun a shell 
at that velocity would perforate six feet of 
wrought iron, or about fifty-four inches of 
mild steel, and when the shell left the gun it 
would have locked up in it as much energy as 
our fifteen-inch shell. There was nothing ex- 



THE TRUTH ABOUT " BIG BERTHA " 207 

traordinary in this accomplishment, as we had 
guns of double the energy, and the late Sir 
Andrew Noble produced a velocity of 5,000 
foot-seconds." 

Thus one gets some scientific information 
concerning the remarkable gun that on this 
INIarch morning was startling the civilized 
world — and shaking the ground beneath my 
feet. 



CHAPTER XII 

THE POWER OF A LAUGH 

THE bombardment of Paris continued 
that day, Sunday, until about 1 : 30 in 
the afternoon, and then the shelhng 
ceased. 

At 3: 40 the buglers went through the 
streets sounding the "All clear " signal, though 
I wondered how the officials could determine 
that a gun hidden seventy-five miles away was 
going to " stay stopped." My guess was that 
because no shells had fallen for about two 
hours it was concluded — as a bit of mere con- 
jecture — that the Germans had ceased firing 
for the day. 

That mine was not a wild guess was proven 
when at six o'clock that evening the Germans 
sent two more shells into the city, I have no 
doubt whatever that the Germans were smart 
enough to believe that after a few hours of 

silence the French would decide that the bom- 

208 




Nenettb and Rintintin. 
The mascots tliat were supposed to protect Parisians from bombs and 

shells. 




Thk Gare de LEst. 

Tlie railway station in front of whicli the first sliell struck -when " Bh 

Bertha " opened fire on Paris. 



THE POWER OF A LAUGH 209 

bardment was ended for the day and would 
sound the "All clear " signal, and so as a bit 
of mockery they sent the two into the city at 
six that evening. 

Unquestionably the Germans wished to in- 
still as much uncertainty as possible into the 
French mind. They were psychologists 
enough to realize that a set program of shelling 
would not have the demoralizing effect that an 
irregular bombardment would have. Thus it 
was that as the days and weeks went by the 
bombardment would take place for a day or 
two at a time at irregular intervals (after the 
first two days) after which it would cease for 
perhaps one day, perhaps two days, perhaps a 
week. Then it would open again, unexpect- 
edly. For a time they shelled the city at night. 
As a result of this uncertainty the nerve strain 
was continuous and far more telling than it 
would have been had the enemy been regular 
in his shelling, 

I was in my room in the hotel when the "All 
clear " signal sounded that Sunday afternoon, 
and I went to the window and looked out. 
Below me I could see people clapping their 



2IO WITH SEEING EYES 

hands, while in the streets children joined hands 
and circled about, singing happily. There was 
a time when I would have smiled at their dem- 
onstrations of joy, but I had had enough 
experience with bombs and shells by this time 
to rob me of any inclination to smile, except in 
relief. Indeed, I felt more like joining in the 
handclapping and the songs of the children. 
It was a wonderful relief to be freed from the 
sound of those shells and to feel that for a few 
hours, at least, there would be no more at- 
tacks. 

What a strange feeling it was, to be shelled 
by an enemy seventy-five miles away, an enemy 
that it would require the fastest railroad train 
an hour and a half or two hours to reach ! 

" Well, that one missed me," one would say 
to himself as a shell or bomb exploded. *' I 

wonder if ? " And in the " if " there was 

uncertainty. One never Iniew where the next 
one would hit. 

That the city would be subjected to an air- 
raid that night I did not doubt, as the sky 
remained cloudless. However, with the ex- 
ception of the two shells that fell about six 



THE POWER OF A LAUGH 211 

o'clock there was no alarm after the "All clear" 
signal had sounded until — but that is getting a 
little ahead of my story. 

The evening passed without incident, al- 
though we momentarily expected a raid. But 
even without an attack our spirits were not 
gay, for the evening dispatches had brought 
grave news of the smashing success of the Ger- 
man drive. That day the Huns had driven 
forward in a way that boded ill for the Allies. 
This was the fourth day of the drive, and it 
seemed impossible to stop them. Despondency 
was our lot that Sunday evening. 

Ten o'clock came, and no raid, so I decided 
to go to bed and get what sleep I could. I had 
come into Paris for a rest, but so far rest had 
been denied me, as I had been routed out of 
bed each night by air-raids and had been shelled 
each day but one since arriving in the city. 

I was worn out with my field work, my 
defective-heart inheritance from my Spanish 
War days was showing signs of trouble, my 
nervous system was badly run do^\Ti, and I 
needed rest. Evidently Fritz would not be 
over to-night, so I entered the little auto- 



> 



212 WITH SEEING EYES 

matic electric lift, pushed a button and was 
taken to the floor on which my room was 
located. 

May I remark in passing that it seemed to 
me that these " lifts," as the elevators are called 
in France, and also in the British Isles, are well 
named. At least most of those in France are, 
for as a rule they will carry only four, and 
people are forbidden to ride down. One rides 
up, but he must come down by the stairway. I 
do not understand the mechanical construction 
sufficiently to explain the reason, but I know 
that placards forbade using the lifts for de- 
scent. A touch on a button, of course, sends 
them down. 

Soon I was asleep, but in the midst of dreams 
of home I was awakened by the heavy anti- 
aircraft guns. " Boom! " " Boom! " " Boom! " 
they roared out into the night. I snapped on 
the light and looked at my watch. It was ten 
minutes till one. 

" Crash! " came the unmistakable explosion 
of a bomb. Then " R-r-oo-oo-m-b — crash!" 
came another much nearer, followed in a mo- 
ment by others, interspersed with the thunder 



THE POWER OF A LAUGH 213 

of the ground batteries in action. We were 
being raided again. 

At the same time the usual wail of the siren 
was heard in the streets, but this time the raid- 
ers seemed to have reached the city before being 
discovered, so that the siren was not needed. 
The bombs and shells were doing their o^vn 
advertising. But the engines raced through 
the streets as usual. 

" There goes Paul Revere once more," I 
remarked to my roommate, a secretary occupy- 
ing another single bed in the room. He 
growled in return. 

"B-00-oo-m!" "Crash!" "R-r-oo-oo-m-b ! " 
The guns and bombs were raising a pretty row. 
" 0-ee-e-e-e-ow-ee-oo-o-o-ee-ow-ee! " shrieked 
the siren. 

Why not tell the truth now, as I have told 
it all through this volume? I was scared — 
scared " green," to use an expression common 
with us over there. I had slept just long 
enough for my nerves utterly to relax; my 
vitality was at its lowest ebb; I was worn and 
frazzled in strength and had been sent here to 
rest and recuperate. I had undergone the 



214 WITH SEEING EYES 

other raids and the two days of bombardment 
with more or less sang-froid. But now, com- 
ing out of a sound sleep at one in the morning, 
my nerves as loose and floppy as old fiddle- 
strings, I lost my grip entirely and for the 
time being I was very badly shaken with fright. 

A cold sweat broke out on me. It seemed 
that each explosion was coming closer to me, 
and I lay there trying to calculate about how 
long, at the rate of approach they were main- 
taining, it would be before the inferno of bombs 
would be upon me. The thing had become 
more than an interesting experience to be treas- 
ured and related later to friends across the 
sea. It had become grim and hellish. 

The night was otherwise still, and the crash- 
ing of bombs and gunfire sounded with unusual 
distinctness. And still that siren shriekedo 
If only it would hush, I thought, the thing 
might be more endurable. 

I wiped the perspiration from my cold brow; 
I thought of home and loved ones, and wished 
that I were back there once more. Doesn't 
Kipling have Tommy Atkins say, " I ain't no 
bloomin' 'ero " ? I am not positive that he 



THE POWER OF A LAUGH 215 

does, but if Kipling doesn't say it let me do so. 
I " ain't." Just then I didn't want to be any 
" bloomin' 'ero," either. I had no desire for 
croix de guerre or any other kind of decoration 
for valor. I wanted that siren to be still; I 
wanted the bombing to cease; I wanted the 
Germans to go away; I wanted peace and 
safety — and plenty of them. 

I felt that my time had come, and I found 
myself wondering whether I would be blown 
to bits by the bombs or merely crushed to death 
by the collapse of the building. My room- 
mate was up and dressing, but I decided to lie 
still and die in bed. 

"Aren't you going to get up? " he asked. 

" No," I answered. " No, I think I'll stay 
where I am." 

" Oh, get up and die with your boots on," 
he said, in jest. But the bantering was en- 
tirely without relish for me, even though I 
jested in return. The fact that I did so is 
certain proof that a man can laugh and joke 
even though he be in gTeat terror, for I know 
that I was as badly frightened as any man 
could be — and yet my pride forced me to con- 



2i6 WITH SEEING EYES 

ceal it by joking with my companion. Per- 
haps he was as fear-struck as I. Who knows? 
Poor fellow. Six weeks later he was terribly 
wounded by shell-fire while serving in the field. 

Finally I decided to get up, also. But while 
I was dressing I was still in the grip of the 
terror that had seized me. Now and then the 
building seemed to quiver with the shock of the 
exploding bombs. 

The hotel where I was stopping was the 
Gibraltar, a hotel for " Y " secretaries ex- 
clusively — for the newly arrived men awaiting 
assignment to the field, and for those back on 
rest periods. Upon retiring at night we al- 
ways placed our shoes in the hallway beside 
our door to be polished, as is the custom with all 
French and other European hotels. 

Another thundering roar close at hand, and 
with my heart trying to jump out of my mouth 
I opened the door and reached out to get my 
shoes. As I did so I glanced down the hall- 
way, and here and there from other doorways 
I saw other arms grabbing frantically for shoes. 
The scene struck me as extremely ludicrous — 
one o'clock in the morning, bombs crashing, 



THE LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS 233 

with cups of chocolate or coffee, call to them to 
help themselves while we were busy getting 
cigarettes or something for fellows at another 
part of the line, and we never worried about 
the money. 

They would grab for those things like a lec- 
turer for a press notice, but when the bugle 
sounded again for the advance they would 
throw their money on the counter, and all one 
had to do was to ask, " What did you have? " 
and they would tell us — tell us every crumb 
they had taken. The American soldier was 
square. 

And, too, it was at this station that I first 
began to feel confident of the final victory of 
the Allies. It was my observation of the 
American soldier that brought to me this con- 
fidence that was never afterward shaken. 
From out of the chaos of hate and horror and 
degTadation I had looked for something that 
would overcome the gloom that was continually 
forcing itself upon any one Avho tried to gauge 
not by what one hoped but by what one found 
through close observation and analysis. I am 
not an enthusiast. I am more prone to ques- 



234 WITH SEEING EYES 

tion and analyze than I am to hurrah. But 
soon after my arrival at this post confidence 
and its comfort came to me. 

It was on the evening of March 30th, and the 
boys of the Twenty-sixth (Yankee) Division 
were the ones who brought to my soul the con- 
viction that when the war ended — whether that 
should be soon or after long years, no one knew 
— it would find the stars in Old Glory brighter 
than ever before because of the valor of the 
American soldier. 

It was a murky, rainy, windy day, and dusk 
came early. The Twenty-sixth had been in the 
trenches around Soissons and had seen some- 
thing of the stern realities of war — nothing 
compared to what they were to know later, but 
still enough to rob them of any illusions. After 
a period of service in that sector they had been 
ordered back to rest billets, but just as they 
had started back after being relieved the Ger- 
mans launched their big drive. Immediately 
the Twenty-sixth Division was ordered to re- 
turn to the trenches, not to the Soissons sector, 
but to the Toul sector. 

Part of the division had barely gotten back 



THE LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS 235 

to their rest camp while other units of the divi- 
sion had not reached that happy place when the 
orders came to return to the fighting line. Im- 
mediately the Twenty-sixth started for the 
trenches once more. 

It was at the close of that dreary March day 
when I saw these boys going forward to the 
battle line. I stood at a cross roads and 
watched them. Thej^ came over a little hill, 
down into a valley, and then up the hill, along 
the winding road, going forward in the rain 
and cold and wind and deepening shadows, go- 
ing forward to where the guns were thunder- 
ing and death was waiting to keep tryst with 
them, g ^ forward stout-hearted and smiling 
and cheerful. 

They had been on the way since before dawn ; 
they must have been weary and soaked and 
chilled, but I vow before God that they went 
on and on and on without a whine, on and on 
and on into the deepening gloom, on and on 
and on with an occasional burst of song, the ar- 
tillerymen sitting their mounts as jauntily as 
if such misery were a thing to be smiled at. 

And as I watched those splendid lads I felt 



236 WITH SEEING EYES 

a new joy in my soul, something spoke to the 
gloom and despondency that had been mine 
and they were gone, never to return. I had 
groped for the light in the darkness of war. I 
found it that March evening, and I knew in 
that hour that when the great test came, as I 
knew it must soon come now, the x^jiierican sol- 
dier would be found worthy of all the best tra- 
ditions of his ancestors, worthy of the prayers 
and warmest hopes of those across the sea who 
were by his side in spirit. 

I went back to my little room and wrote in 
my diary: ''An army like that can never he 
whipped/' 

As the weeks went by and I sa\' lore and 
more of the American soldier in times of great 
trial my conviction deepened and my admira- 
tion for his sterling qualities grew. May God 
direct us and give us such strength of will that 
as a nation we shall never prove unworthy of 
those who so greatly honored and so valorously 
served us ! 



CHAPTER XIV 

THE YANK AND HIS ALLIES 

LIKE most French towns, Neufchateau 
is a place of much historical interest. 
Through its streets had marched Attila, 
depicted by Dante as " the scourge of earth "; 
here, too, had come Julius Cgesar with his Ro- 
man legions; and in after years Joan of Arc, 
Savior of France, whose natal village of Dom- 
remy was but a few miles distant, had visited 
here with kinsfolk. 

As ours was division headquarters hut there 
were always from ten to twenty " Y " secre- 
taries in the town, some of them working in this 
hut, some at the warehouse, some of them truck- 
drivers, and others newly arrived men to be as- 
signed posts in the area. The result was that 
the feeding problem was no light one. To meet 
this need, " Billy," as Levere was kno^vn 
throughout that entire section, established a 

secretaries' mess in the hut, where dinner and 

237 



238 WITH SEEING EYES 

supper were served, it being necessary for the 
secretaries to hustle as best they could for 
breakfast. 

This secretaries' mess gave us a splendid 
chance to provide for the canteen more bounti- 
fully than could otherwise have been done, and 
the good lady — the wife of a major of Ameri- 
can Engineers serving at the front — who was 
in charge of this mess never lost an opportunity 
to see that this dining-room arrangement bene- 
fited the soldiers. She was one of the most de- 
voted women I ever knew. No longer young, 
her hair white, she worked from early morning 
until far into the night, denying that she was 
weary, happy in being able to do something for 
the boys in khaki. 

Assisting us was a young English lady, a girl 
whose brother and fiance had been killed in the 
war. She had come out from London to do her 
bit as best she could, and joined us as auto- 
driver and canteen assistant. She was an ex- 
pert driver as well as a jewel in culinary af- 
fairs, besides being possessed of that invaluable 
trait so often asserted as being lacking in the 
English — a keen sense of humor. 



THE YANK AND HIS ALLIES 239 

There came a Sunday when we had a large 
number of secretaries with us, and as a special 
treat that day we were to have bread-pudding 
for dinner, a dainty that our white-haired 
" Mother " often prepared for the soldiers but 
always forbade to the secretaries. Large pans 
of it were made for the fighting men, but not a 
taste were we ever allowed. But on this Sab- 
bath day the secretaries were to be permitted 
to share the privileges of the soldiers and have 
bread-pudding. 

The English girl was helping in the prepara- 
tion of the dinner and to her had been assigned 
the duty of making the sauce for the pudding. 
Noon came, and the secretaries came pouring 
in from a near-by post where they had been at 
work erecting a hut (yes, we labored on the 
Sabbath) , each keenly hungry and each rejoic- 
ing in the news that they were to have bread- 
pudding, the you -may -see -and -serve -but - 
mustn't-touch delicacy. 

Just as they were filing into the little dining- 
room the English girl signaled me into the 
kitchen. 

" Something's wrong witH this sauce," she 



240 WITH SEEING EYES 

exclaimed anxiously. " I think I must have 
too much flour in it. See what you think of it." 

I examined it. " Too much flour " was the 
correct diagnosis. It was little else than paste. 
The girl was skilled in cookery, but she had 
never before essayed a sauce like this, and now 
that her efforts had met with disaster she knew 
not what to do. 

" Strain it," I advised. " Get as much of the 
flour as possible out of it, and pour in more 
milk." 

" Of course, I can strain it," she assented, 
" and I can pour in the milk, but it will not be 
much of a sauce that way." 

I did my best thinking for a moment and 
then unfolded a plan. 

" Strain out the flour, pour in the milk and 
then douse it with vanilla until the taste of this 
extract makes them forget everything else 
about the sauce. We'll serve it with a flourish, 
telling them that this is a very special treat, a 
sauce known as ' The Queen's Own,' and then 
we'll explain that at a recent function held in 
London for the benefit of wounded English 
soldiers Queen Alexandra's favorite sauce 



THE YANK AND HIS ALLIES 241 

recipe was sold at auction and afterward pub- 
lished in the London papers — and this is the 
sauce." 

She looked at me a moment with widening 
eyes, and then burst into a perfect gale of 
laughter. 

"Wonderful!" she exclaimed. "We'U do 
it." 

And we did. At the proper time the pud- 
ding was served, and then the English girl 
came in with the sauce. She had refused to do 
the explainmg, so as she entered the dining- 
room with the crock of sauce she paused and 
looked toward me. I made the desired speech, 
explaining about " The Queen's Own " sauce, 
and I saw her lips twitching as she desperately 
fought back the laughter that was about to 
overwhelm her. 

The explanation was a success — surprisingly 
so. Among the secretaries was a certain effu-: 
sive gentleman whom we all called " Vesuvius," 
because he was a talking volcano always in erup- 
tion. He never lost an opportunity to break in 
on affairs with a burst of speech, and " The 
Queen's Own " sauce gave him a cue. Hardly 



242 WITH SEEING EYES 

had I ended my explanation until " Vesuvius " 
was on his feet, his hand upraised. Then he 
made a very beautiful little speech of apprecia- 
tion of the spirit — the loving, thoughtful spirit, 
the spirit that was doing so much to bind 
America and England in still closer under- 
standing and sympathy — that had prompted 
this charming daughter of Britain to serve us 
with this delicious sauce, the favorite of that 
beloved lady. Queen Alexandra, " whose health 
I now propose that we drink in pure, sparkling 
water." 

So they arose and drank the Queen's health 
in " pure, sparkling water." At least, it was 
water. But it had been heavily medicated to 
kill the germs, and it didn't sparkle so that one 
could notice it. Then the sauce was served, and 
at the conclusion of dinner Miss Underwood 
was complimented by all on the deliciousness 
of the concoction. After all, it proved once 
more the wonderfulness of the mind, what im- 
agination can do for one. 

My duties in this hut kept me busy from six 
in the morning until ten or eleven o'clock at 
night, and then not infrequently I was called out 



THE YANK AND HIS ALLIES 243 

of my bunk during the night to minister to pass- 
ing detachments. But finally I was asked to 
add lecturing to my other work, and gladly 
gave what services I could in this respect. The 
result was that I drove all over that section of 
France and lectured in nearly every American 
camp there. I would work in the canteen as 
long as my time would permit and then would 
drive to the designated camp, speak to the men, 
drive back to my hut, get what sleep I could 
and be out of bed at six in the morning ready to 
hand out hot chocolate, cigarettes, cookies, etc. 
It was a strenuous life I was leading, but I 
was willing to keep at it if my strength per- 
mitted. Others were doing the same thing. 
College professors, ministers, and lawyers 
worked in the warehouse all day long, unload- 
ing cars, handling hut-timber, carrying and 
piling huge boxes of supplies, and then in the 
evening, sometimes without supper, they would 
start out to visit other camps on a speaking 
tour, returning late at night for a little rest 
before the new daj"^ called them to the ware- 
house and freight cars once more. We usually 
started with two or three speakers in a car, the 



244 WITH SEEING EYES 

men being dropped here and there at different 
camps, and then picked up again when the car 
started back after the lecture at the farthest 
point. 

On dark, rainy nights — and most of the 
nights were dark and rainy at that time — it 
was no easy task and certainly not a cheerful 
one to make one's way around over roads that 
ran in all directions and twisted and curved all 
over the country. The little villages were all 
very much alike. The streets were narrow and 
crooked, no sidewalks, the house and stable 
were all under one roof, so that nothing but 
walls — and oftentimes defective walls — sepa- 
rated the family from the cows, the horses, the 
sheep, and the chickens. Always when the 
stables were cleaned the manure was piled out 
in the front — not in the rear. I have heard 
people say that they could not believe this 
statement. Pick up almost any picture of a 
French village and you will find the manure- 
piles in front of the homes. 

When it rains and the weather grows a bit 
warm the results are not pleasing to an Ameri- 
can nose. At night no lights were permitted 



THE YANK AND HIS ALLIES 245 

in the villages; the windows must be heavily 
shuttered and curtained lest a ray of light es- 
cape and serve as a guide for Fritz, flying over- 
head with his bombs ready to be dropped. But, 
to tell the truth, I could never understand why 
it was necessary to keep those towns dark, for 
I know full well that any German flying ten 
thousand feet above the earth could smell one 
of those French villages. Darkness would not 
baffle him. 

Often I visited camps of colored troops, and 
I enjoyed these visits to the utmost. There 
was always a welcome in evidence and a spon- 
taneous humor that did much to cheer one, 
even though the colored boys had not intended 
to be humorous. The " Y " huts for colored 
troops were just the same as the huts for the 
white soldiers. In some colored camps white 
secretaries were in charge of the huts, and in 
others colored secretaries had charge. 

One rainy night I visited a camp of colored 
engineers employed in some construction work 
near the front; It was such a night as would 
take the joy out of any set of men, and I found 
these negroes congregated in the dimly lighted 



246 WITH SEEING EYES 

hut, listening to the rain and the guns, and very 
despondent. I mingled with them and chatted 
as gayly as I could, trying to strike a " lead " 
by which I could particularly interest them and 
cause them to forget their present dejection. 
Nearly every one wanted to talk to me about 
" home." 

" Where are you fellows from? " I asked one 
sorrowful looking chap. 

" Well, suh," he replied, " we're from about 
everywhar — except from France." Then his 
face suddenly beamed as he added: "And, 
boss, I suhtenly does hope that we'll soon be 
from France ! " 

I shared his hope, and events proved that the 
colored soldiers did well their part in making it 
possible for the American troops to be " from 
France " long before we dreamed of in those 
days. The record of our colored soldiers in 
France is one of which their race and our na- 
tion may well be proud. Of course, there were 
instances with them the same as there were with 
soldiers of other races when some small group 
did not show any Avild desire to rush into dan- 
ger. One of these instances came under my ob- 



THE YANK AND HIS ALLIES 247 

servation, and I relate it because it illustrates 
the humor of the race that is continually mani- 
festing itself. 

A detachment of colored soldiers — laborers 
who had been sent over by the draft law — was 
at work at a point not far from the front lines 
when it became necessary to have an important 
piece of work done in the trenches. A call was 
sent for some of the colored laborers, and it was 
decided — as only a few were needed — to ask 
for volunteers. But not a one of them stej)ped 
forward, and it was necessary to detail a 
squad. 

A few days later while I was in the camp 
the secretary in charge of the hut there spoke 
to one of the soldiers about the incident. 

" Didn't you volunteer to go up to the 
front? " asked the secretary. 

" No, suh, Mistah Secretary, I didn't volun- 
teer to go up to no front," replied the darkey. 
He started to walk away, and then turned 
back and added emphatically: " I tell you, 
IMistah Secretary, I didn't volunteer to come 
over here." 

Up in the trenches the boys used to be fond 



248 WITH SEEING EYES 

of telling of when a number of colored soldiers 
were caught in their first bombardment. After 
several shells had gone whistling over one of 
the darkeys turned to another and asked: 

" Sanij don't you think it's about time you 
jined the church? " 

" Huh! " answered Sam, rolling his eyes as 
another shell screamed, " I done jined when 
that first one come over." 

While stationed at Neufchateau I came in 
contact with a great many wounded English 
soldiers. They discovered the English girl in 
our hut, found that she was willing to make tea 
for them, and so the hut would be visited by 
numbers of these Tommies each afternoon. 'No 
need to ask what they wanted. It was always 
the same thing — tea. 

The English and the American soldiers were 
beginning to mellow toward each other, now 
that the big battle was on and each had seen 
the other tested. During the earlier days of 
the American stay in France the Tommies and 
the Yanks had not taken to each other in an 
excessively enthusiastic manner, even though 
the aero squadrons where I was first stationed 



THE YANK AND HIS ALLIES 249 

always extended every hospitality to the Brit- 
ish who had been bombed out of their camp. 

The British soldier resented the fact that 
America had remained out of the war so 
long, and further resented the attitude assumed 
by some Americans of having come over to 
" finish the war." They regarded our soldiers 
as braggarts and meddlers, whose participation 
in the war might serve to prolong the affair 
somewhat, but would not have any other mate- 
rial effect. From this statement you may 
judge that the British did not expect an Allied 
victory. I am confident that at the time I refer 
to, the dawning of the year 1918, the average 
British soldier did not expect to win. Neither 
did they expect a German victory. They were 
convinced that the war was a draw, that it 
might have been won had America come in two 
years before, but now all that America could 
do would be to drag the miserable thing along 
a little longer, prolonging the suffering and in- 
creasing the deaths. Our men were not highly 
regarded by the British. 

On the other hand, the British were held in 
considerable contempt by the Americans. The 



250 WITH SEEING EYES 

boys from the new world, full of energy and 
confidence, believed that the British had been 
too slow and conservative, that they were more 
inclined to sit down and take tea and talk 
things over than they were to fight. And the 
average American soldier was not at all back- 
ward in letting his opinions be known. 

Added to this condition was the undoubted 
fact that the British and French were jealous 
of each other, and remained so to the end of the 
war. These things, apparent to any one whose 
eyes were capable of seeing beyond the super- 
ficial, were a heavy handicap to the Allied 
cause. 

The Canadians, Australians, and Americans 
became friends immediately. Their philosophy 
of life is much the same. All three are men 
reared in the atmosphere of energy and en- 
deavor, men whose ancestors forsook the con- 
servatism of England and boldly faced new 
and great tasks. And the soldiers from these 
three countries were strongly marked with 
these characteristics. True to form, as the 
American soldier disliked the reserved, conser- 
vative attitude of the British soldier, so, too, 



THE YANK AND HIS ALLIES 251 

did the Australian and the Canadian dislike the 
Einglish Tommy's ways. 

EA^ents proved, also, that true to form, the 
American, Australian, and Canadian soldiers 
fought with the same daring, the same dash 
and smashing energy, the same spirit of wade- 
in-and-whip-them-quickly. But when the final 
test came the soldiers of the different Allied 
nations learned that all were worthy, each 
fighting true to his racial characteristics. The 
drawling English officer who had so disgusted 
the Yank by his swagger-stick, monocle, and 
apparent fastidiousness, demonstrated that his 
courage was equal to his pink-tea manners as 
he calmly walked forward at the head of his 
men, leading them across a shell-swept and 
bullet-drenched field still carrying his swagger- 
stick, and dying as gamely as any of our more 
demonstrative Americans. 

In the January days of 1918, however, many 
of these things had not been learned by the 
Americans, nor by the British and French con- 
cerning the Americans. The Australians and 
Canadians had promptly accepted the Yanks at 
their full value, because they understood them. 



252 WITH SEEING EYES 

Let me say, too, that the Scots and the 
Americans were firm friends. The Scots were 
daring fighters, and " Jock " and " Yank," as 
they called each other, were good cronies at all 
times. 

But the one thing above all others that won 
the war was the decision of the Allies to unify 
the supreme command. Had the^^ not done 
this I believe that without question the Ger- 
mans would have battered their way to victory. 
But when all of the armies of all of the Allies 
were put under one command, jealousies were 
thrust into the background and success was as- 
sured in a short time. Previous to that the 
French had fought whenever they chose, and at 
such points in their lines as they chose, irrespec- 
tive of what the British or Italians or others 
were doing. The British did the same, only 
scant support being received by either army 
from the others, with the result that all Ger- 
many had to do was to whip them one at a time. 
V7ith Foch in supreme command, all of this 
was changed. Whenever he struck a blow at 
one point, every soldier in all of the Allied 
armies was doing just what Foch wished 



THE YANK AND HIS ALLIES 253 

done to give that attack the best chance of suc- 
cess. 

The philosophy of the thing was very simple 
— yet it took the Allied nations three years and 
a half and cost them many hundreds of thou- 
sands of lives — and almost defeat — to learn the 
lesson. National jealousies are responsible for 
legions of graves in Flanders fields. 



CHAPTER XV 

JOAN OF ARC'S BIETHPLACE 

ONE of the most delightful days I spent 
in that section of France was devoted 
to a visit to the little village of Dom- 
remy, where Joan of Arc was born. 

This is no place for a biography of the Maid, 
but many readers will be interested in knowing 
something about her birthplace. The house in 
which she was born, January 6, 1412, is still 
standing and is the shrine before which all of 
France bows. 

The village now has a population of perhaps 
200 souls. It is located between Toul and 
Neufchateau on the dividing line between the 
departments of the Vosge and the Meuse. The 
French pronunciation of the village name al- 
ways reminded Yank soldiers of their early 
singing lessons in school, " Do-re-mi," and so 
it was almost universally thus pronounced, the 

only error in this pronunciation being that the 

254 



JOAN OF ARC'S BIRTHPLACE 255 

first " m " should be slightly sounded instead of 
being dropped altogether. 

Domremy is not on a railroad. But I left 
the little French train at the village of Maxey 
one April morning and walked across the hills 
about a mile and a half to the native village of 
the Maid of Orleans. As I walked down the 
streets of Domremy it seemed to me that they 
could be but little changed from what they 
were in the days when Joan roamed there. 
I^ike most French villages of the Lorraine 
country the streets were narrow, crooked, and 
dirty, with no sidewalks. 

Along a street came a great two- wheeled cart 
draAvn by two plodding oxen, and with the 
peasant driver plodding beside the oxen, his 
wooden shoes clumping heavily. I came to a 
spacious yard surrounded b}^ an iron fence — an 
unusual thing in France, where all fences are 
of stone — the yard being dotted with flower- 
beds and trees. I entered and stood before a 
shed-like building of stone and a material re- 
sembling stucco. I was standing before the 
shrine of France, the house wherein was born 
the peasant girl who was to crowi) Charles VII 



256 WITH SEEING EYES 

King of France and redeem her country from 
the bondage of the English. In a niche over 
the doorway was a facsimile of a statue of the 
Maid presented by Louis XI. 

I opened the heavy plank door and entered. 
The interior of the house is much the same to- 
day as it was when the Maid lived there. There 
has been something done in the way of restora- 
tion, but many of the original timbers are still 
to be seen, the deeply worn stones of the floor 
are the same that her feet trod, the old fire- 
place before which the child so often lay at 
nights while listening to the tales of war and 
of France's sorrows as related by passing 
strangers still remains ; in her bedroom is care- 
fully preserved a portion of the chest in which 
her clothes were kept. The tiny, cell-like rooms 
have not been changed, and from them one 
looks out at the hills that she knew and loved 
five hundred years ago. 

Just across the street from the house I vis- 
ited the little village church where Joan wor- 
shiped daily — for she was a very devout maid 
— and in which is still to be seen the baptismal 
font used at the christening of the child. 




Birthplace of Joan of Arc. 
The house in which she was born in IJomremy. 




Street in Domremy. 
The village in wliirh Joan of Are was li.irii January 6. 1412. 



JOAN OF ARCS BIRTHPLACE 257 

If you study the life of Joan of Arc you 
will learn that it was from a corner of this 
church that she first heard the Voices. It was 
in the middle of a summer's day when she was 
in her garden that she suddenly saw a great 
light coming from the corner of this church and 
heard a voice calling her thrice, " Jeanne 
d'Arc!" " Jeanne d' Arc!" " Jeanne d' Arc! " 
Thus it is the French spell and pronounce her 
name, the pronunciation being as if the name 
were spelled " Zshon Dark." It seems a pit}^ 
to use such a spelling in order to get the French 
pronunciation, but I know of no better way to 
set it forth. She said that when the voice spoke 
she looked toward the light and saw St. 
Michael, chief of the armies of heaven, who 
held a flaming sword in his hand. Then it was 
that she was first told that she was to save 
France. 

I walked on through the village and out to- 
ward the spot where the old Fairy Tree stood. 
This was a wide-spreading beech, and it has 
properly been said that it could as well have 
been called The Children's Tree, for it was 
under this Fairy Tree that the children of 



258 WITH SEEING EYES 

Domremy were wont to gather and sing their 
songs while they clasped hands and eircled 
about it. Beneath this tree the fairies were 
supposed to hold carnival while mortals slept. 
And, too, here was where Joan heard many of 
her Voices and saw her visions. 

The road from the village winds along beside 
the little river Meuse, a stream not much 
larger at that point than most American creeks. 
The day was a delightful one, the hillsides 
splashed with the gorgeous coloring of the wild- 
flowers, the air balmy, the river faintly mur- 
muring. Even the big guns over on the Lor- 
raine front Avere stilled for the time being. It 
was the Valley of Peace, the abode of the Past. 

Close beside the road I passed a grave, 
fenced in, and rising above it was the usual 
figure of Christ on the Cross. About half a 
mile from the village I came to the spot I 
sought, the site of the Fairy Tree, now marked 
by a magnificent memorial church erected by 
the Republic of France in honor of the Maid. 
The church stands close beside a remnant of 
what was in Joan's day a great forest wherein 
dwelt a terrible dragon. So greatly did the 



JOAN OF ARC'S BIRTHPLACE 259 

peasants fear this monster that now and then 
they had the local priest perform certain mystic 
ceremonies at the edge of the forest for the pur- 
pose of driving away the beast. Sm'el}^ no one 
can doubt the power of the exorcism, for no 
record can be found of the dragon ever having 
hurt any one. 

The memorial church is a magnificent edifice 
with spire rising high above the valley. In 
front on one side is a figure representing the 
Maid's father, Jacques d'Arc, resting on his 
plow, and on the other side is a figure repre- 
senting her mother, Isabelle (Romee) d'Arc, 
sitting by her distaff. Within the church are 
several paintings, large masterpieces, dej)icting 
important events in the life of Joan. 

Standing on the steps of this church I could 
look down into and across the Valley of the 
Meuse, threaded by the little river like a trac- 
ing of silver. Here and there flocks were graz- 
ing, and as I mused it seemed that the cen- 
turies were rolling away and that the little 
peasant girl must appear. 

As I started back toward the village a sullen, 
rumbling *' boo-00-ni " came floating across the 



26o WITH SEEING EYES 

hills. It was the voice of Hate, the thunder of 
the big guns over on the front, coming into the 
Valley of Peace. Again and again came that 
distant muttering, and presently I heard the 
drone of motors above me, and, looking up, I 
saw one of those marvels of the twentieth cen- 
tury, an aeroplane, flying high above the valley 
and over the village where the Maid was born. 
The Present was meeting the Past. 



^r 



CHAPTER XVI 

MEMORIAL DAY IN FRANCE 

HE weeks dragged slowly by, with the 
■ great drive still gaining ground in 
spite of the most desperate resistance 
of the Allies. The American troops had been 
thrown into the line and had astonished the sol- 
diers of the other nations by their fighting 
qualities. And America had speeded up in a 
wonderful way, so that 300,000 men a month 
were pouring into France. 

At last America was coming with typical 
American speed! Could the British and the 
French hold out a little longer — just a little 
longer? If so, we from the land of the Stars 
and Stripes Imew that our America would hurl 
at the Germans a mighty army of the hardest 
fighting men in the world. Cheered and heart- 
ened by the knowledge that the giant of the 

new world had at last been aroused to this 

261 



262 WITH SEEING EYES 

needed action, the soldiers of England and 
France fought with a heroism unprecedented 
in history. 

And so we waited and watched and prayed. 

Then came Memorial Day, the first that 
America observed in France. The Red Cross 
had charge of the services in Neuf chateau. In 
the morning the Y. M. C. A. secretaries, sol- 
diers, nurses. Red Cross men and Salvation 
Army workers assembled at the Rebeval Bar- 
racks and the parade moved to the little French 
cemetery on the opposite side of the town. 

Many of the French shopkeepers closed their 
stores in respect to this American day of mem- 
ory, and all along the line of our march the 
French to^vnspeople and soldiers stood in re- 
spectful attitude (the soldiers at attention) as 
they watched the column moving to the burial 
ground to pay tribute to our dead. Through 
the town and along the winding road beyond 
we went, and then to the cemetery on the green 
hillside overlooking the valley. Frequently 
French women leaned from their windows to 
hand us flowers as we passed close beside their 
homes. 



MEMORIAL DAY IN FRANCE 263 

In the cemetery we formed in a hollow 
square about the graves of the American sol- 
diers sleeping there, most of whom had been 
members of the Twenty-sixth Division. An 
American firing squad was back of us, and close 
to our lines stood a number of school children, 
adults and French soldiers. 

We sang a number of songs, including " The 
Battle Hymn of the Republic," there were 
prayers by the Salvation Army and Y. M. 
C. A. men, a short tribute by a Red Cross of- 
ficer, and a brief address in English by Lieu- 
tenant Dechelette, a French officer on duty at 
Base Hospital No. Q6. After the services I 
obtained from Lieutenant Dechelette the manu- 
script of his speech, written by himself and 
read in excellent English. It reads: 

" We welcome your dead alongside our 
own — comrades in arms and in graves. To the 
honor of America, the United States has de- 
cided to take its own share in the great fight, 
the fight of France and her Allies to obtain 
more justice and liberty in the world. With 
your whole power, with all your heart, you 
came to help us and to relieve us. 



264 WITH SEEING EYES 

"And so, on this Memorial Day a French 
voice assures you that your feelings for your 
dead are faithfully echoed in our hearts. Be- 
tween you and us the soul-communion is entire 
and we cannot be indifferent to anything that 
is yours, either joy or sorrow. 

" With these feelings of grateful sympathy 
the Medical Service officers and the pupils of 
Neufchateau College come to participate in 
this Remembrance ceremony and make more 
evident by their presence the Franco-Amer- 
ican brotherhood." 



TKe Red Cross nurses decorated the graves, 
sixty in number, the firing squad fired the cus- 
tomary three volleys and a bugler somided 
" Taps." With the sunshine of a perfect day 
bathing the hills and valley, the scene was un- 
forgettable. 

And only a few miles away American troops 
were engaged in the most stupendous battle 
recorded in history. 

I am sure that one of the grateful memories 
of the French people that will be brought back 
by Americans will be that of the loving manner 
in which they cared for the graves of our dead. 
As a matter of course, our dead rest in many 



MEMORIAL DAY IN FRANCE 265 

villages and obscure places in that land, and 
often as the tide of war moved the armies here 
and there the American troops marched away 
from the spots where their comrades lay sleep- 
ing, and perhaps those particular sections never 
again were occupied by our men. But the 
graves of those thej'- left behind never suffered 
from neglect. The French villagers took up 
the loving care that the departing Americans 
were forced to abandon, and the graves of our 
soldiers always have been watched over and 
stre^vn with flowers by the women and children. 

It is of record that at one point in the Toul 
sector the rules of the church would not permit 
the burying of a Protestant American in the 
little Catholic cemetery, so he was laid to rest 
just outside the cemetery, close to the stone 
fence that surrounded the sacred bivouac of 
the dead — and that night French Catholic 
hands tore do^\Ti the wall that separated the 
American boy from those who slept within the 
cemetery. They wanted that he should not 
rest in isolation. So far as I know, that section 
of the fence was never restored. 

I hope that nothing in the relation of this in- 



266 WITH SEEING EYES 

cident will give to the reader the idea that there 
was conflict over there between the religions, 
and that service of any kind ever halted at the 
picket lines of a faith. It is not so. Catholics, 
Protestants, and Hebrews worked together 
without jealousy and without intolerance. In 
the huts of each of these organizations the 
men of any religion — or of no religion — were 
equally welcomed and served, and on the battle- 
fields the chaplains and secretaries. Catholic 
and Protestant, and Jewish rabbis served faith- 
fully, courageously, and without heed as to the 
religion of those who came under their minis- 
trations. 

The Y. M. C. A. gave its huts freely to the 
Catholic priests for the holding of mass and 
other affairs, and I desire here and now to ex- 
press my appreciation of the cordial help ren- 
dered me in the field by Catholic chaplains. 

Those were days when the world was taught 
lessons it should not forget. 

Day after day American troops were going 
forward to different sections of the line. So 
far the hammering had all been west of us, but 
there were signs that a smash was to be at- 



MEMORIAL DAY IN FRANCE 267 

tempted through the Toul sector, and huge 
guns were mounted in favorable positions miles 
back of the front lines, in order that the Allies 
might be prepared should the enemy succeed 
in breaking through at this point. 

The hospitals all about us filled rapidly with 
the wounded, the American hospital trains be- 
ing the acme of comfort and efficiency in ar- 
rangement, and the marvel of the world. And 
these trains with their burdens of suffering 
were on the move almost constantly. 

I visited the wounded and the dying, and dis- 
covered in them a fortitude undreamed of. 
Suffering from wounds of every conceivable 
nature, from indescribable disfigurements and 
mutilations, their faces ashy with suffering, 
they were always ready to look up at one and 
smile — and then chew their lips to choke back 
the moans of agony that struggled for expres- 
sion. 

" It's all right, sir," said one lad, his right leg 
and arm missing. " It's only a part of the 
price we must pay for the new world we're to 
have after this war." 

His voice was steady, in spite of the pallor of 



268 WITH SEEING EYES 

his face, but I found something akin to a sob 
rising in my throat. I turned away, but he 
spoke to me again. 

" Don't you think, sir, that the world will be 
new after this? " he asked wistfully. " I have 
read so much about this in the American 
papers, and it has helped me to face this thing. 
The boys — the American boys, at least — want 
to end war forever. Don't you think we really 
will have a new world, sir? " 

Before me was lying a boy — for he was little 
more than twenty — who was hugging close to 
his soul the welfare of mankind, a lad who had 
lost his right leg and right arm on the battle- 
field but who was saying in sincerity most evi- 
dent that it was all right — if it was a part of a 
price to be paid for humanity's sake, if his 
sufferings were to have a bearing on the remak- 
ing of the world. I shall never forget his 
words. I can never remember mine, except 
that I tried to feel truthfulness in my heart 
when I stumblingly assured him that I felt no 
doubt of the rebirth of the world. I tried to 
feel truthfulness in my heart, I say — but 
I could not escape a realization that I was 



MEMORIAL DAY IN FRANCE 269 

doubtful of the assurance I tried to give 
him. 

Are we, in truth, to have a new world? 

What is this new world of which we heard 
so much during the battle days, this new 
world for which America poured out her bil- 
lions of treasure, for which our young men 
fought so gallantly, and for which tens of thou- 
sands of them laid down their lives? Are we 
really to have this wonderful Something? Are 
we to keep faith with the dead who died in the 
belief that a better era was to come? 

How is this new world to come? Is it to 
come through peace treaties and covenants of 
a league — or of leagues — of nations? Is it to 
be a matter of new political machinery? Or is 
the world to turn at last to a genume accept- 
ance of the teachings of Christ? 

We have emerged victorious from a night of 
war and battle-storm. Shall we forget those 
hours of travail when on our knees we cried 
unto God? 

Wlien the world plunged into the abyss of 
war many cried out in their bitterness of spirit 
that Christianity had failed, that the Church of 



270 WITH SEEING EYES 

God had not fulfilled its mission else this 
catastrophe would not have befallen us. 

What say you of the future? Shall we fail 
to respond to the cry for help that is now being 
made by the churches of all denominations, for 
help in making its mission the success some 
charge the church with failing to achieve when 
war came? If it was true that the church had 
not properly fulfilled its mission, whose was the 
fault? Was it our neighbors' fault — or yours 
and mine? Did you and I go to its aid and 
support when it was battling against a grow- 
ing menace, or did we ignore its cry for our 
aid? 

If we had given no more help to the armies 
battling in France, battling for freedom and 
humanity, than we did to the churches of our 
America battling to conquer the selfishness and 
trickery that inevitably lead to war, what would 
have been the result, and with what right would 
we have charged those armies with failure to 
win success? 

I shall never forget that maimed boy and his 
anxious questionings. The future is ours to 
mar or glorify. Are we to have a new world? 



MEMORIAL DAY IN FRANCE 271 

Shall you and I keep faith with those who sleep 
in Flanders fields? Have you and I learned 
that " Righteousness exalteth a nation "? 

If we have not, that maimed boy and his 
mutilated and dead comrades have sacrificed 
in vain. 



CHAPTER XVII 

THE SMILING, FIGHTING ARMY 

THE days that followed until the middle 
of June were filled with the same 
strenuous work of serving at the can- 
teen counter from early in the morning until 
late at night, except on the evenings when I 
left the canteen to drive to other camps to 
lecture. Day after day we cheered forward 
the steady stream of American soldiers march- 
ing to the flaming battle lines — and day after 
day we received back broken and suffering ones 
who had gone forward so strong and smilingly 
but a few days before. 

And then I received a telegram from the 
Paris headquarters ordering me to report there 
immediately for transfer to the lecturing de- 
partment of the " Y." 

This gave me my third opportunity to study 

Paris. My first visit to the city in early De- 

272 



THE SMILING, FIGHTING ARMY 273 

cember had shown me a mourning, gloomy, 
depressed Paris. The second stay in Paris 
was late in March, at which time I saw a city 
bombed from the air and shelled by a strange 
monster of a cannon, but a city unconquered 
and determined to fight to the last; a city 
realizing the gi-avity of the war situation, but 
with its former despondency overwhelmed by 
the fighting spirit aroused by the challenge of 
the enemy with his Murder Gun, "Big Bertha." 
This June visit was to reveal to me a city with 
all important statues and monuments hidden 
by sand-bags, a city that was now devoting it- 
self to conquering the weak-souled and the 
traitorous ones who sought to spread the doc- 
trine of submission, a city highly organized for 
desperate defense against the foe now thunder- 
ing his big guns only two score of miles to the 
northward. 

Food was noticeably scarcer in France now 
than it had been six months before. The differ- 
ence was evident on the few dining-cars that 
were operated by the railroads and in the ho- 
tels and restaurants. Americans were vitally 
concerned in the food supply of France in 



274 WITH SEEING EYES 

those clays, and I am sure that the following 
extract taken from the Paris edition of the 
London Daily Mail of June 8, 1918, will prove 
of marked interest : 

" The Paris Prefect of Police yesterday 
issued a Note giving a list of maximum prices 
fixed for the wholesale and retail sale of meat. 
The retail prices for first, second, and third 
qualities of rump-steak are eight francs, sixty 
centimes; eight francs, forty centimes; and 
seven francs, eighty centimes the kilo, respect- 
ively. The prices for beefsteak are eight 
francs; seven francs, ninety centimes; and 
seven francs, thirty centimes the kilo. An 
English pound of best quality rump-steak thus 
costs about three francs, ninety centimes, and 
beefsteak about three francs, sixty centimes." 

Let me explain that in France they do not 
weigh by pounds, but by kilograms (nearly al- 
ways referred to as " kilos ") . A kilogram is 
slightly more than two and one-fifth English 
pounds — 2.2046 pounds avoirdupois, to be 
exact. At the rate of exchange prevailing at 
that time, an American dollar was worth five 
francs, seventy centimes of French money, so 
the reader may easily figure what the different 



THE SMILING, FIGHTING ARMY 275 

qualities of meat would cost per pound in 
" God's money," as the Yanks used to call 
United States money. 

This brings up another question that I have 
been asked very frequently. " Was horse- 
meat sold in France? " It was — and I pre- 
sume it still is, and probably will continue to 
be sold there. I do not know whether I have 
ever eaten any or not. If I did I enjoyed it, 
for I found the meats in France to be unusually 
good. Perhaps it was the skill with which it 
was cooked that made it so tender and good, for 
the French can take a few odds and ends that 
an American cook would sneer at, and of it the 
cuisinier will concoct a tempting and delicious 
feast. 

If I ever ate any horse-meat I did not know 
it — but my guess is that Dobbin has been the 
'piece de resistance of more than one meal I ate 
over there, for in one town near the border of 
Alsace I took my meals at a little restaurant 
next door to a meat-shop that prominently dis- 
played over its door a large (but artificial, of 
course) horse's head and a sign stating that it 
was a " horse-meat shop." I frequently saw 



276 WITH SEEING EYES 

carts drive up there with quarters of horse for 
the shop, and the French with whom I carried 
on my very lame and imperfect discussion con- 
cerning horse-meat as an edible always assured 
me with great sincerity that it was tres hon 
(very good — excellent). 

Bread-cards were issued to the civilians, and 
the same cards were given to Y. M. C. A. 
secretaries. They provided for 100 grammes 
of bread — about three and one-third ounces — 
at each meal. New cards were issued each 
month upon application to the proper authori- 
ties, each person being entitled to three cards 
for each month, a breakfast-card, a dinner-card, 
and a supper-card. Thus a card for April, or 
Avril, to use the French Avord for that month, 
would contain thirty coupons — one for each 
day of the month — each coupon bearing the 
name of the month, the day, and " 100 grammes 
de imin." ("Pain" being the French word 
for bread, and being pronounced "pan.") 

At breakfast one would present his bread- 
card, the waitress would clip off the coupon for 
that day and bring the bread; at dinner one 
would j)resent another card, the coupon for 



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Frknc'H Bkkad Carp. 

It was necessaiy to have one of these cards in ordcM- to he served hread 
with your meals in hotel or restaurant. Each coupon was i;ood for 
bread for one ineal — ](K) <iraninies hein^ about three and one-third 
ounces. Tliree cards were issued to eacli individual, one heiiiir used 
for breakfasts, one for the noon meal, and one for the evening meal. 
This card was for the moutli of "Avj-il," the French for April. 



THE SMILING, FIGHTING ARMY 277 

that date would be clipped off, and at supper 
the third card would be presented and the 
coupon for that day clipped from it. 

Sugar-cards were also issued, each coupon 
of which permitted one to purchase a certain 
amount of sugar. No meat-cards were neces- 
sar}'^ in France, but in England, Scotland, and 
Ireland one had to have a card for almost 
everything he ate. I will refer to the English 
cards farther on. 

By the middle of June sugar was scarce in 
France, and saccharin^ a coal-tar product, and 
therefore injurious, was offered as a sweeten- 
ing substitute for sugar. It was a clear syrup, 
and looked innocent enough. 

When I reached Paris I found that there 
was great uneasiness there lest the Germans 
should succeed in capturing the citj^ or in 
battering it to ruins with their artillery should 
they advance much farther, even if they did not 
capture it. They had broken through the 
French position on the Chemin des Dames, and 
daj'' bj'^ day they had drawn nearer to the 
capital, until Paris was in imminent danger 
of a bombardment like unto that visited 



278 WITH SEEING EYES 

upon Rheims. That the city would be in- 
vaded by the Huns was not beyond be- 
Hef. 

The very breath of the approaching beast 
was in the faces of those who remained in Paris. 
On still nights the sound of the distant fighting 
could be heard in the threatened city, and 
nightly air-raids and frequent bombardments 
by " Big Bertha " added to the ominousness 
of the situation. 

And amid all of this trial the suffering 
French patriots were confronted by another 
foe in their very midst — the traitorous and the 
weak-souled who began to whisper — and then 
to speak more loudl}^ — into the ears of the 
people that now was the time to make peace, 
tHat the Germans could not be stopped, that 
the Americans had not arrived in sufficient 
force, that only useless torrents of blood and 
the destruction of Paris would result from fur- 
ther resistance. " Make peace ! Make peace ! " 
they cried. 

But in that dark hour the American marines 
came rushing forward and threw themselves 
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THE SMILING, FIGHTING ARMY 279 

sweeping down toward the Marne. They 
came on the battle-field worn by days and 
nights of marching and travel in trucks and 
cattle cars; they came to the field that was to 
win them undying honor and to save France 
and civilization. 

Around Chateau-Thierry and Belleau Woods 
they met the enemy, stormed at him with the 
passion of humanity and freedom in their souls, 
and the German drive was stopped at the point 
nearest Paris. History will show that after 
that the Germans never gained a kilometer on 
that front, and while it is true that the advance 
of the Allies — an advance that was never 
halted — began Avith Marshal Foch's terrific 
blow on July 18th, I am convinced that the tide 
of victory turned against the foe that first week 
in June when the marines and other American 
troops barred the road to Paris with their 
young bodies. 

But while this action on the part of the 
Americans had brought untold joy to the 
hearts of the French, and they had been amazed 
at the fighting qualities of our men, yet the 
drive had been stopped only at the point near- 



28o WITH SEEING EYES 

est Paris, and perhaps but temporarily. The 
immediate crisis had been passed, but the 
danger was not ended. Full well they knew 
that a reinforced foe might succeed in over- 
whelming that heroic defense and reach or 
demolish Paris, the probability of a heavy 
vengeance on the part of the Germans be- 
ing doubled by their present disastrous 
check. 

So Paris was tense and fearful when I ar- 
rived there on the 19th of June. 

At Y. M. C. A. headquarters there was much 
uncertainty. The tide of battle was so ever- 
changing that no human being could foretell 
what a day might bring forth. Plans care- 
fully thought out had to be abandoned over 
night because of changed conditions. Rail- 
road travel was so disarranged that no depend- 
ence could be placed on it. 

I had left my trunk in storage in Paris when 
I had gone back to the field the last time, and 
now I realized that it was not improbable that 
the trunk would be lost, together with certain 
articles of great value to me. It all depended 
upon the holding powers of those who were out 



THE SMILING, FIGHTING ARMY 281 

there in front of the city. That the enemy 
would not be content to accept this halting of 
his advance without a supreme effort to again 
smash through we Avell knew. 

At Y. M. C. A. headquarters they advised 
me to send my trunk to Tours for safety. The 
" Y " had a big warehouse at Tours, and I was 
told that I could send my trunk down there, 
get a receipt for it, and get it whenever I 
wished to. In the meantime it would be safe, 
for there was no chance that the Germans 
would sweep so far southward as that. The 
war would end before they got to that point. 

Headquarters officials told me that they had 
sent many records and other valuables out of 
the city, and had so arranged their affairs that 
thej^ could remove all their important papers 
to safety on very short notice. I decided that 
it was the wise thing for me to do. But I had 
an assignment that would take me out of the 
city to the north^vard for a few days, and I 
told them that when I returned I would turn 
the trunk over to them. 

And in those few days I saw that which 
brought solace to my troubled mind. Out 



282 WITH SEEING EYES 

there I saw train-load after train-load and 
truck-load after truck-load of American sol- 
diers rushing to the battle lines. They knew 
that they were the last hope of humanity ; they 
knew that they were going forward to what 
was to be the most important and probably the 
most bloody battle in history; they knew that 
their young bodies and their unconquerable 
spirit must meet and defeat the crudest foe the 
world had known. 

And what was their attitude as they rushed 
to this tryst with death? Were they despond- 
ent, sorrowful, reluctant? Ah, no! They 
were singing the songs of their homeland ; they 
shouted, jested and waved joj'^ously at whomso- 
ever they passed on the way. In their button- 
holes were wild-flowers, and from the muzzles 
of their guns the brilliant posies nodded. 

Never has the world seen a more wonderful 
army than marched beneath the Stars and 
Stripes in this great war. 

As I watched and studied them, my heart 
grew lighter and my confidence in the success- 
ful resistance of that young army rose. When 
I returned to Paris headquarters I called on 



THE SMILING, FIGHTING ARMY 283 

the official who had discussed with me the stor- 
ing of my trunk in Tours. After greeting me 
he reached into a drawer and drew forth the 
receipt that was to identify my trunk in 
the Tours warehouse. I declined to receive 
it. 

" Just tear up that receipt, will you? " I said. 

He looked at me in surprise. 

" What's the trouble? " he asked. 

" No trouble at all," I answered, " but I've 
been out where I've seen some things, and I've 
made up my mind to bet the Kaiser my trunk 
that he can't take Paris." 

And to-day the world knows who won the bet. 
To-day the world knoAvs the story of that July 
day when the French and Americans launched 
the great counter-offensive from Chateau- 
Thierry along a twenty-five-mile front, and 
how the Americans fought once more with a 
valor that thrilled the world and that sent the 
German hordes staggering back broken and 
beaten — the beginning of the great retreat that 
was to stop only when the demoralized foe sued 
for peace. 

In those days the " Y " men in Paris whose 



284 WITH SEEING EYES 

time was not entirely taken up with other duties 
went to the aid of the Red Cross, this organiza- 
tion having been ahnost overwhehned with the 
thousands of wounded coming back from the 
battle-fields and the flood of refugees fleeing 
before the invading armies. 

We helped care for the homeless, we carried 
the wounded from the ambulances into the 
trains or from the trains to the ambulances, as 
the different cases might be. Night and day 
the Y. M. C. A. men worked with the Red 
Cross at that time of trial. 

I found time to visit often with the wounded. 
And always I came from their presence with 
a holier conception of God and man. 

^y this time the merchants in Paris and 
other cities in France had hit upon a clever j)lan 
for protecting their large windows from being 
shattered by the concussion of shells or bombs 
that might burst near by. Narrow strips of 
strong paper were pasted over the glass in 
various artistic designs that permitted the win- 
dow-display of merchandise to be viewed with- 
out hindrance and at the same time served to 
strengthen the glass. Of course it was no pro- 



THE SMILING, FIGHTING ARMY 285 

tection against flying fragments, but only 
against concussion. 




Window Protections 

The counter-offensive had not been launched 
by General Foch when I left Paris again for 
the field, this time to visit different sections of 
the fighting line as a lecturer. I was in the 
field that July day when Foch sti-uck and I 
shall never forget it, for I was under shell-fire 
all that day myself, and I remember well how 
tense our nerves were as we waited for news 
of the result of the critical struggle taking 
place at another point in the line. 



CHAPTER XVIII 

''LEAVE" TRAINS AND BARBER-SHOPS 

THIS time I was to go over into Al- 
sace, one of the " lost provinces " torn 
from France by Germany in 1870. 

Owing to the generally demoralized railroad 
conditions I was compelled to go by a very 
roundabout way to my first working center 
down in the Vosges Mountains, a route that 
took me through the famed city of Nancy, an 
important j)lace that the Germans had been at- 
tacking either by land or the air since early in 
the war. 

It was sadly battered when I arrived there 
on the evening of June 24th. Here it was 
that I met the famous Rainbow (Forty- 
second) Division, which had been fighting 
around Baccarat and Luneville, south of 
Nancy, and was now moving toward the 
Somme and imperishable glory. 

It was only by traveling on a permissionaire 
286 



"LEAVE" TRAINS 287 

train that I succeeded in getting out of Nancy 
for the southeast. A yermissionaire train is a 
special train run for the benefit of French sol- 
diers on permission — on leave. Captain Bruce 
Bairnsfather, of the British army (according 
to my notion the real humorist of the war, so 
far as cartoons are concerned), has given the 
world the best picture I have ever seen of one 
of these " leave " trains. 

His picture shows a British soldier cramped 
in between a number of sleeping French sol- 
diers, each Frenchman's face adorned with one 
of the huge moustaches they so adore, and with 
impedimenta of various kinds " chinked " in 
wherever space would allow. Beneath the elo- 
quent picture he says: 

" You will never quite realize how closely we 
are bound to our French Ally until you have 
had the good fortune to travel on one of those 
' leave ' trains — six a side, windows shut, fifty 
miles to go, and eighteen hours to do it ! " 

^lost of the poilus among whom I was 
crowded were mellow with vin rouge (red 
wine) — some of them shoutingly mellow, and 



288 WITH SEEING EYES 

others snoringly mellow ; all of them smellingly 
so. They were just out of the trenches and 
were careless of everythmg except the fact that 
they had been granted at least one more week 
in which to live. After that week, back to the 
trenches and ? 

They sang " Madelon " at the toj) of their 
voices while the darkened train crept on its 
way; they roared out questions and statements 
to me (none of which I understood), they 
snored vociferously, and they vomited freely 
upon the floor. With rebellious stomach I 
thought of a certain remark made by General 
Sherman, and I wondered what he would have 
said of war had he traveled on a French 
" leave " train. 

But there came a time when I had the joy of 
crawling out of that close fellowship and filling 
my lungs with the sweet air of the great out- 
of-doors. 

The next night I lectured in a camp of the 
Twentieth Engineers, an organization that had 
the distinction of being the biggest regiment in 
the world. Detachments of this regiment were 
scattered all over France. They were engaged 



"LEAVE" TRAINS 289 

in the prosaic, but highly important work of 
cutting timber up in the mountains, sending it 
by team and inclined raihvay down to the mill 
they had constructed in the valley, and then 
sawing it into timbers for trenches, artillery 
emplacements, etc. 

The world read much of the brilliant work 
of the airmen, the artillerjanen, and the in- 
fantry, but few ever jjaused to pay tribute to 
the work being done so heroically by men like 
these, men buried from the public's attention, 
but men who were doing a work just as im- 
portant as that being performed by those who 
went over the toj) with baj^onet and bomb. 

These men were not under shell-fire, but 
German planes were over them almost con- 
stantly, and the " pluh ! j)luh ! pluh ! " of anti- 
aircraft shells could be heard high above them 
at almost any hour. 

This night I lectured standing in the middle 
of a mountain road, with the men sitting on 
rocks and stumps and fallen trees all about me, 
the flow of oratorj'^ being interrupted by a 
French ]^easant with one leg and the croicc de 
guerre who came along drivmg a slow-plodding 



290 WITH SEEING EYES 

yoke of oxen dragging a small tree. We had 
to suspend the address and get out of his way 
until the meek-eyed beasts had passed down the 
road. 

The next evening I lectured in the Casino, 
a very pretty little theatre, in Gerardmer. 
Such were the changes the days brought to 
us. 

For a few days I enjoyed the delights of 
living in this rather pretty and interesting city, 
surrounded by the majestic beauties of the 
Vosges Mountains, driving out to different 
points along the front lines to speak, dodging 
shells, bombs, and gas. Not all of my trips 
were by car, however — at least, not all of the 
way. There were points beyond which an auto 
was not allowed to proceed, and thence on it 
was a case of clambering up and down moun- 
tain trails and doing one's best to keep out of 
view of German snipers. 

On one of these jaunts across the mountains, 
over into Alsace, I passed close to the hotel 
Altenberg, near La Schlucht, a hostelry where 
the Kaiser and the Crown Prince used to visit 
when they journeyed into Alsace. Now it 



"LEAVE" TRAINS 291 

was in French hands, but it stood out on the 
mountain side in plain view for miles — and that 
day the Germans sent a couple of shells into it, 
just to make sure that no one was desecrating 
the rooms made sacred by Wilhelm II. 

But those were days when I could spend 
much of the time along the front lines and still 
live with the comforts of hotel and barber-shop 
awaiting me. 

Perhaps I should not use the word " com- 
fort " in connection with a French barber-shop. 
The American soldiers in from the trenches 
used to rush for these shops — the first time. 
They may have visited them again, but they 
did not crowd the doors. Usually a Yank had 
to be pushed into the door of one of these 
barber-shops before he would believe that he 
was being correctly directed. The boys in 
khaki would search the alleys, back doors, front 
doors and abris, looking for a barber-shop, pass 
one a dozen times, and stand on the street look- 
ing around in a bewildered way, trying to 
locate the place that they had been told by some 
other and better acquainted Yank was " just 
three doors down the street." 



292 WITH SEEING EYES 

They certainly have a wonderful skill when 
it comes to hiding their barber-shops over 
there. The fact that a sign " Coiffeur " is 
hanging out in front of a j)lace does not mean 
anything to the average Yank, and if they 
finally peep into the place it rarely resembles 
what they are searching for. 

I know they have American barber-chairs in 
France — or at least one chair of this kind — for 
I sat in one in Paris. There may be many 
others, but it is the only one I saw. All the 
other shops used plain, straight-back chairs. 
One doughboy said to me that the only differ- 
ence he could see between a French barber- 
chair and a plain American dining-room chair 
was that the latter is more comfortable and you 
can lean back farther in it. 

You sit in one of these straight, uncomfort- 
able chairs, bend your head back as far as j^ou 
can — (thanks to the activity of the boche air- 
men we were somewhat accustomed to this 
position) — and the gentleman with the lather- 
brush seizes you. My most vivid recollection 
of a French barber was of one who had learned 
two English words, " Very good," and these he 



"LEAVE" TRAINS 293 

would hurl at me about every thirty seconds, 
sometimes with a question in his voice, and 
sometimes with a hint of defiance. I always 
meekly replied " Oui, oui." 

When I had had my first French shave the 
barber after completing his work with the razor 
stepped back and said something to me, which, 
of course, I did not understand. So I sat still 
and waited. He repeated it, and I looked at 
him with an air that was intended to tell him 
to cut out the conversation and resume the 
barbering. But he only repeated his remark 
a little more explosively. This time he made 
motions as if washing his face. I looked into 
the mirror and saw that my face was gener- 
ously smeared with lather. Evidently the 
simpleton was asking if I wanted my face 
washed. Of course I did. 

" Yes — sure — washee, washee — oui, oui," I 
replied, floundering helplessh^ and mixing in 
Chinese pidgin-English with my efforts to 
make him understand that I certainly wanted 
my face washed. 

The barber said something more, went 
through the same washing motion again, and 



294 WITH SEEING EYES 

this time pointed to the bowl in front of me. 
Evidently he had not understood my fluent re- 
ply. I nodded vigorously. 

" Old, Old," I said sharply, pointing to 
the wash-bowl filled with water. " Confound 
it, yes," I finished, as he still stood wait- 
ing. 

Just then a Frenchman in the chair next to 
me crawled out, leaned forward and washed his 
own face in his bowl and then got back into the 
chair. A great light broke upon me. I was 
to wash my own face instead of having the 
barber do it for me while I remained in the 
chair, as they do in America. I grinned sheep- 
ishly, mumbled an apology the Frenchman did 
not understand, and proceeded to wash my own 
face. 

And not a Frenchman in the place gave the 
slightest evidence that I had made myself 
ludicrous. In America there would have been 
a guffaw of ridicule. 

But by the time I had arrived in Gerardmer 
I had learned that in a French barber-shop one 
was expected to wash his own face, and that 
always the wash-bowl was emptied by tipping 



"LEAVE" TRAINS 295 

it backward on the swivels that held it, there 
being no hole in the bottom with a rubber plug, 
as in American wash-bowls. You had to 
" tip " both the barber and his bowl. 



CHAPTER XIX 

WHAT THE FOURTH OF JULY DID 

THE Fourth of July found me in 
Epinal, a short distance back of the 
lines, and there I had the opportunity 
of observing the American and French cele- 
bration of our Independence Day. 

That day was a huge success in every way. 
The heads of the two nations (France and 
America) and the leaders of the armies of these 
nations recognized the fact that up to that time 
the brotherly love between the French and the 
Americans was not slopping over to any alarm- 
ing extent, and every effort was made to use 
the glorious Fourth as a cementing day. The 
result was pleasing. 

Throughout France the people had re- 
sponded to the appeals and general propa- 
ganda looking toward an opening of French 

hearts to the Yanks, and everywhere the people 

296 



WHAT THE FOURTH OF JULY DID 297 

joined generously with us in celebrating the 
day. Epinal, like other French cities, was 
rather profusely decorated with French and 
American flags, and a few flags of other of the 
Allies, and together the French and Amer- 
icans — soldiers and civilians — made a big day 
of it. French and American military bands 
took part, French and American soldiers car- 
ried out a program of athletics — sometimes the 
French and Americans competing, and in other 
events each nationality holding its own contest. 
One of the principal American events, of 
course, was a baseball game, and this event 
gi'ipped the French — and baffled them. It was 
an interesting study to see how the French 
watched the game, to listen to their babel of 
remarks concerning it, and to hear their 
startled " Oh, la! la! " when some Yank base- 
runner came tearing for the home plate and 
dived for it recklessly when the ball was 
whipped to the catcher. They persisted in 
crowding the foul lines, and now and then there 
were wild stampedes and many exclamations 
as a brawny boy from Yankland went rushing 
into the crowd, with all the force and speed of 



298 WITH SEEING EYES 

an express-train, heedless of everybody and 
everything except his desire to nail the ball. 

Street venders did a thriving business selling 
tiny flags, both French and American, and 
small bows of ribbon, one half of the bow show- 
ing the American colors and the other half the 
French. The very best of feeling existed from 
the first, and this grew still more cordial as the 
hours passed. One old French woman of 
whom I purchased one of these combination 
bows insisted on pinning the ribbon upon my 
breast and then kissing me on both cheeks. 
As I made my escape from the miexpected 
demonstration I saw tears rolling down her 
cheeks. " Americaines! Bons Americaines! '* 
("Good — or kind — ^Americans!") she ex- 
claimed. 

Referring to flags, I saw more flags that 
day than I saw during all of the rest of the 
time I was in France. This was not a " flag 
war." Usually in the villages one saw the 
French flag hung out in front of the Mairie 
(mayoralty, or town headquarters), but not 
elsewhere. As for American flags, they were 
seldom seen. It was quite different from the 



WHAT THE FOURTH OF JULY DID 299 

old days when flags were fluttered wherever a 
corporal's guard of soldiers could be found. 

It was the same with swords. I saw a 
few French officers carrying swords, but I did 
not see an American officer in France with a 
sword. I do not undertake to say there were 
none. I do say that they were very few — ^if 
any. 

On the Fourth of July, I met an American 
negro in a French uniform and wearing the 
croiiV de guerre, which he had won by gallantry 
in battle. He was a tall, broad-shouldered 
darkey, and was from Georgia, I found upon 
talking with him. He spoke French fluently 
and was a man of marked intelligence, although 
clinging to the typical negro style of expres- 
sion, as was shown when I asked him how he 
chanced to be over there fighting in the French 
army. 

" Well, suh," he replied, grinning infec- 
tiously, " about three years ago my curiosity 
done got the better of my good sense — and here 
I is." 

That night he took part in a boxing tourna- 
ment in the theatre and knocked his French 



300 WITH SEEING EYES 

opponent stiff. The next morning I saw him 
starting for the front once more, his white teeth 
flashing in a typical Georgia darkey grin as he 
waved good-bye to me. 

" I'd shuah like to be gittin' back to dem 
watermillyuns," he shouted. " But Mistah 
Foch has done asked me to clean up on a few 
mo' boches first, an' I suhtenly am gwine ter git 
rough with 'em from now on." 

The " peanut whistle " on the locomotive 
shrieked and the long train of third-class cars 
started its jolting journey toward the front — 
and death. He was a gallant soldier, a worthy 
son of a race to which our America owes much, 
and I am hoping that the god of battles spared 
him to return to his beloved Georgia. 

Here, too, on the Fourth of July I met 
Major Dietrich, of the French army, a great- 
great-grandson of M. Dietrich, who was mayor 
of Strasbourg in 1792, and in whose house on 
the 24th of April of that year " The Marseil- 
laise " was written by Rouget de I'lsle. Major 
Dietrich told me the story of the writing of 
" The Marseillaise," the French National 
Hymn, and as there may be others M^ho are in- 



WHAT THE FOURTH OF JULY DID 301 

terested, but who are as unacquainted with 
the story as was I, I beg to relate it very 
briefly. 

]M. Dietrich, mayor of Strasbourg, assembled 
at his home on the night mentioned a number 
of young men, volunteers, who were going to 
fight against Austria in the war which had just 
been declared. Among the invited guests was 
Rouget de I'lsle, a young captain of engineers. 
During dinner the mayor gave it as his opinion 
that France needed a hymn of war, or a na- 
tional anthem. 

" My dear fellow," he said, turning to 
Rouget, " you are both a poet and a musician. 
Cannot you compose something that is worthy 
to be sung? " 

About midnight the young captain went to 
his room, thinking deej)ly on the subject. 
Standing before the oj)en window with his 
violin he composed the words and music of this 
wonderful song. The next morning he took 
the composition to M. Dietrich. It produced 
a i)rofound sensation. It was printed and sent 
all over France, but it was the Marseillaise — 
the volmiteers from INIaf seilles — who were first 



302 WITH SEEING EYES 

to sing it, and thus it came to be called " La 
Chant des Marseillaise." 

On the Fourth of July General Pershing 
issued the following message to America on 
behalf of the American Expeditionary Forces: 

" On this anniversary of our independ- 
ence, the officers and men of the American 
Expeditionary Forces on the battle-fields 
of France renew their pledges of fealty 
and devotion to our cause and country. 
The resolve of our forefathers that all men 
and peoples shall be free is their resolve. 
It is quickened by sympathy for an in- 
v^aded people of Idndred ideals and the 
war challenge of an arrogant enemy. It 
is fortified by the united support of the 
American people. 

"(Signed) Pershing.'" 

On July 14th, when France celebrated Bas- 
tille Day — a day that means to her what In- 
dependence Day means to us — the Americans 
united with the French in celebrating the occa- 
sion. Again flags were flung to the breezes, 
and again every effort was made by the leaders 
of both peoples to bind the soldiers in closer 
fellowship. 



WHAT THE FOURTH OF JULY DID 303 

On July 14th Marshal Joffre issued the fol- 
io wmg message to the Americans in France: 

" France celebrates on July 14th her 
national independence, as the Americans 
observed theirs July 4th. On these two 
solemn days American and French hearts 
beat in unison. All feel that the moment 
approaches when, thanks to their common 
efforts, the defeat of Germany will allow 
all free nations to celebrate at last the in- 
dependence of the world. 

"(Signed) J. Joffre."" 

The efforts put forth brought excellent re- 
sults. From that day on a better feeling be- 
gan to manifest itself between the Americans 
and the French. This was helped out by the 
generous manner in which the French news- 
papers chronicled successes on the part of the 
American soldiers. Over in London the Eng- 
lish had first swallowed hard and then observed 
the Fourth of July in a manner most wonder- 
ful to consider. 

The Fourth of July was the greatest get- 
together day of the war, on the part of the 
Allies, and the effects of it were soon to be 



304 WITH SEEING EYES 

seen in the terrific punches delivered and per- 
fect team-work manifested by the soldiers of 
the different nations fighting Germany. 



CHAPTER XX 

HELMETS AND GAS-MASKS 

AFTER the Fourth I went to the 
trenches again, and the remainder of 
my §tay in France was spent in going 
along the front lines. 

Part of the tune I worked with what the 
" Y " called a " traveling canteen." This was 
a camionette arranged with shelves much after 
the manner of the old-fashioned American 
huckster-wagons, and with this camionette 
we visited places along the front where there 
were no huts, and where, for various reasons, 
it was unpossible to have a hut. For instance, 
a small detachment would be located at a cer- 
tain spot far over in a forest — for a few days 
only. Then they would be moved to some 
other spot, and so on, ad infinitum. It was an 
impossibility to send a special secretary and a 
hut with that detachment on its constant wan- 
derings, and as such detachments and wander- 

306 



3o6 WITH SEEING EYES 

ings were as numerous as the leaves on the 
trees, the only solution of their problem was in 
the traveling canteen. 

We would load up our camionette at the 
storehouse close back of the lines, and then 
away we would go to the front to seek out these 
isolated ones. Wherever we found an Amer- 
ican soldier we ministered to his wants if the 
stock we carried could do it. We packed quan- 
tities of chocolate, cigarettes, etc., etc., on our 
backs into the front trenches, observation-posts, 
artillery positions, and wherever the Yank was 
to be found. With us we took writing-paper 
and envelopes, and we always carried note- 
books in which we would jot down errands we 
were to perform for the soldiers when we got 
back to some town in the rear. One lad would 
want his watch fixed, another would desire a 
fountain-pen — their wants were legion — and 
these we would take note of and carry out to 
the best of our ability when the opportunity 
afforded. 

Many of our American detachments were in 
little villages that were badly battered by 
bombs and shells. Oftentimes these villages 



HELMETS AND GAS-MASKS 307 

were located between American and German 
batteries, and shells were continually scream- 
ing overhead — and yet I have seen French 
women and children and old men continuing 
to live there, clinging to their homes in spite of 
everything. 

At night they would sleep in their cellars, 
with gas-masks ready for adjustment, and al- 
ways during the day they kept close to the 
ahris, their gas-masks in position for instant 
use. In many of these villages camouflage of 
fish-nets interwoven with artificial foliage and 
grasses were draped here and there over the 
streets. 

People have asked me about the things that 
most impressed me upon my return to America, 
and always I have replied that perhaps above 
all things else I was impressed with the sight 
of children who laughed and played and 
sang. 

" Oh," some have replied, " do not all chil- 
dren laugh and play and sing? " 

My answer is that in many sections of France 
they did not. They lived in an atmosphere of 
tragedy, of constant suffering, of death, of 



3o8 WITH SEEING EYES 

dread, of cannon's roar and the fumes of 
poisonous gas. Count your — and your chil- 
di'cn's — blessings, you parents of America! 

The art of camouflage was wonderfully ef- 
fective as i)ractised by the American soldiers 
along the front. Big guns placed close beside 
a road were so carefully hidden by screens of 
fish-net and artificial grasses and foliage that 
one probably would pass them without being 
aware of their j)roximity. And if one chanced 
to be passing in this ignorance of the true state 
of affairs just as one of the heavies was fired — 
well, try to imagine the effect, you who jump 
and exclaim when a paper sack is burst behind 
your back. 

Of course, up there in and near the trenches 
we wore our shrapnel helmets always, with our 
gas-masks at the " alerte" Often one is asked 
if these helmets are not uncomfortably heavy. 
My answer is that it depends largely upon cir- 
cumstances. If one is marching along the road 
in the hot sun, with no firing going on, the hel- 
met soon begins to feel as big as a wash-tub and 
as heavy as a cook-stove. But when one is un- 
der fire the helmet seems to shrink until it is 



HELMETS AND GAS-MASKS 30? 

no larger than a thimble and as light as a 
feather. 

As a matter of precise information let me 
state that mine weighs exactly two pounds and 
one ounce. 

The French helmet is very different from the 
American and British helmets, and most people 
agree that the French ones are better-looking 
than ours. But as to serviceability, I believe 
the burden of the testimony is in favor of the 
Yank " bonnet." I have always felt that a 
young French student, who spoke excellent 
English, exactly stated the proposition in a 
conversation with me one day at Belfort. He 
took my helmet from my head and his from his 
head and held them side by side, examining 
them critically. 

"Ah," he said, in his quaint way, " your 
American helmet is not so — what you call it? — 
sesthetic — not so i)retty to look at, as the French 
helmet. But when the shrapnel comes — ah, 
then it is much better for the head than the 
French one." 

I admitted that such was my opinion. He 
nodded, and then added, slowly: 



3IO WITH SEEING EYES 

" I believe, Monsieur, that it is much the 
same with the French and the Americans. 
The French, they wish to look, to appear just 
so, rather than to be. But the Americans, they 
wish to be rather than to look." 

The American gas-mask was the best mask 
in use in France. The mask first used by the 
French was a very simple affair, as will be 
noted in one of the illustrations shown else- 
where in this book. It consisted of a mask 
that was supposed to fit tightly over the face, 
with elastics over the head holding it in posi- 
tion. It was heavily padded, this padding be- 
ing soaked with a chemical that was intended 
to neutralize the poison gas as it seej)ed through 
and to render safe the air one breathed. It 
was a little better than nothing, but that is 
about all that can be said for it. However, it 
undoubtedly saved thousands of lives — and 
that is tribute enough for any invention. 

Later the French perfected a far superior 
mask that was said to be almost if not quite 
the equal of any mask in use. I never wore 
one of the improved French masks, but I am 
quite ready to believe in its efficiency — for I 



HELMETS AND GAS-MASKS 311 

saw an American brigadier-general carrj^ing 
one, and I am not entertaining any doubts that 
an American brigadier would have about the 
best mask made. 

The American and British masks were al- 
most exactly alike, so much so that the average 
American soldier did not know whether he was 
wearing a British mask or an American mask, 
and thousands thought that they were wearing 
American masks, when the truth was they were 
wearing British ones. Practically the only 
difference between the two masks w^as that the 
American make was of slightly heavier mate- 
rial, and there were one or two unimportant 
technical differences in the construction of the 
two masks. 

Army orders established two definite zones 
with respect to gas-mask regulations. In one 
of those zones, the farthest of the two from the 
front, the orders were that everybody must 
carry a gas-mask at all times. They were sup- 
posed to be carried on the left side. In this 
zone, which Avas carefully outlined as to its 
hmits, there was very little likelihood of a gas 
attack, but in order to be on the safe side every 



312 WITH SEEING EYES 

man was required to have his mask with him. 
Of course, the orders were not always obeyed, 
and but slight effort was made to enforce 
the order in that zone. Nevertheless, it ex- 
isted. 

In the other zone — along the front trenches — 
every man was supposed to wear his mask at 
the '' alert e" or " ready " position. This 
meant shortening the long carrying shoulder- 
strap by means of a button and buttonhole un- 
til the mask rested on the chest, the strap about 
the neck. A string fastened to the top of the 
case in which the mask is carried was brought 
down to the lower corner, fastened to a small 
ring there and then passed about the body and 
tied to a small ring at the other lower corner 
of the case. This kept the case in which the 
mask is carried, and in which the canister al- 
ways rests, from falling away from the body 
when one was stooping or crawling. At the 
alerte the mask case was carried with the flap 
unfastened, opening outward, so that upon an 
alarm being sounded one could instantly grab 
the mask, jerk it from the case, and adjust it. 
When a gas alarm sounded one did three 



HELMETS AND GAS-MASKS 313 

things as quickly as possible — another case of 
*' toot sweet, and the tooter the sweeter." 
With his left hand he struck the rear of his 
helmet and knocked it from his head, forward, 
the strap mider the chin permitting it to fall 
clear, and with his right hand he dived into the 
case and brought out his mask, which he ad- 
justed Avith both hands. But there was some- 
thing he must do even more quickly than either 
knocking off his helmet or grabbing his mask. 
He must hold his breath instantly. If he were 
careless and took three or four breaths after the 
alarm sounded he might spend weeks in a hos- 
pital or afford employment for the burial 
squad. 

When gas was first used it was throA\Ti by 
projectors, but this meant that the side using it 
must wait until the wind was favorable, else it 
would be blown back and the gassers would be 
gassed. This happened all too frequently to 
make gas attacks popular s^Dort on the part of 
those who were doing the projecting. Then 
the gas shell was invented, and artillery fired 
gas shells from four to six miles, where they ex- 
ploded and clouds of gas enveloped those who 



314 WITH SEEING EYES 

were attacked. This was a safe method for 
those making the attack, for the wind did not 
have to be reckoned with. Even if the wind 
blew toward the lines from which the shells 
were fired the gas would be dissipated long be- 
fore it reached the point from which it had been 
sent. 

These gas shells had a sound peculiarly their 
own, and the sound of the explosion was differ- 
ent from that of other shells, so that if things 
were not too lively one had a bit of a chance to 
detect the fact that a gas shell had landed near 
him. Later the Germans — and the Allies, too, 
I believe — destroyed that identifying sound by 
putting gas and shrapnel in the same shells. 
That is, not all shrapnel and high explosive 
shells contained gas, but most gas shells con- 
tained shrapnel. 

Experts could adjust the mask within six 
seconds after the cry of " Gas ! " That is, 
starting with the mask at the '' alerte," where 
it was supposed to be carried at all times in the 
danger region. It was not strictly necessary 
to make the adjustment so quickly, although 
the quicker was always the better, but it Avas 



HELMETS AND GAS-MASKS 315 

necessary to adjust the mask before one took 
another breath. 

On another page the reader will find a photo- 
graph showing all the parts of the mask, which 
has been taken from the case and turned inside 
out for the purpose of revealing the parts that 
few people have ever seen. The reader will 
understand, of course, that the part which 
covers the face has for the purpose of this 
picture been carefully folded back, so that the 
noseclip and mouthpiece might be clearly seen. 

The noseclip will be seen just below and be- 
tween the eyes of the mask. The noseclip is a 
padded, clothespin-like affair that is opened by 
compressing the circle of wire shown as con- 
necting the noseclip. Releasing the com- 
X)ressed wire allows the clip to tighten after one 
has thrust his nose between its jaws. This 
compels the wearer of the mask to breathe 
through his mouth. 

The mouthpiece is of hard rubber. It fits 
under the lips, tightly against the teeth, with 
projecting pieces of rubber for one to hold be- 
tween his teeth, much like the mouthpieces used 
by football iilayers. One then draws his breath 



3i6 WITH SEEING EYES 

through the hole in the mouthpiece, shown in 
the illustration, which, of course, is connected 
with the tube that in turn connects with the 
canister at the lower end. This canister con- 
tains the chemicals. In the bottom of this 
canister is a valve that permits air to enter the 
canister, after which it is made " safe for 
democracy " by passing through the chemicals, 
and is then drawn up through the tubing and 
mouthpiece and into the soldier's lungs. 

" Then what? " you may ask. " How does 
one get rid of the air he has breathed? " 

Simply keep on breathing, inhaling and ex- 
fialing without ever for a breath removing the 
mouthpiece. Do you see the little flat piece of 
rubber in the circle just beneath the mouth- 
piece? That is on the outside of the mask, con- 
nected with the mouthpiece, and is a valve 
through which the exhalations of breath pass, 
but which closes tightly the instant there is an 
inhalation. Thus all air must come in through 
the valve in the bottom of the canister, pass 
through the chemicals, up through the tube and 
mouthpiece and be exhaled through the rubber 
valve shown. The mouthpiece is not removed 




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HELMETS AND GAS-MASKS 317 

for the exhalations. One breathes and exhales 
through the same orifice. 

When one wishes to give orders or to speak 
for any purpose while wearing the mask he 
must do it in a very disjointed manner. He 
draws in a full breath, removes the mouthpiece, 
shouts a few words, slips the mouthpiece back 
between his lips, gets his breath again, removes 
the mouthpiece, shouts a few more words, and 
repeats this process until he has finished his 
oration — which usually is the very soul of 
brevity. 

If you wish to practise and get some idea of 
how it is done just stick two fingers in your 
mouth to represent a mouthpiece, take a deep 
breath, remove your fingers, shout what you 
have on your mind, being careful to get youi' 
fingers back in your mouth each time before 
taking a breath. 

Taking cognizance of the condition Pat was 
trying to set forth when he dolefully ex- 
claimed, " Sure and I'll niver be able to get 
these boots on until I've worn them a time or 
two," the army saw to it that the soldiers had 
abundant practice in the adjustment of gas- 



3i8 WITH SEEING EYES 

masks. At the first, attempt one does feel 
much like Pat, that he can never get the thing 
on until he has worn it a time or two. And 
after the mask is on one usuallj?^ feels sure that 
he will smother in a few minutes at the longest. 
But he doesn't. 

However, it was for these reasons that fre- 
quent gas drills were imposed. The soldiers 
had to become so accustomed to diving into the 
case after the mask and adjusting it expertly 
that they would do it without having to pause 
and consider just what was to be done next and 
how it was to be done. Small sheds were 
erected, the men would be taken in there with 
their masks on, and the place would be filled 
with gas — usually " tear " gas, harmless be- 
yond smarting the eyes if one's mask was not 
properly adjusted. They Avould be given 
practise in making short marches with masks 
on, also. Usually, the first time one tried 
wearing his mask he would pull it off in a few 
minutes, gasping for breath, but after a little 
practise he would find that he could breathe 
fairly comfortably through the tube. 

Let nothing I have said be construed as 



HELMETS AND GAS-MASKS 319 

intimating that any one ever came to love a 
gas-mask. At best they were a sore trial — but 
familiarity with their discomforts made them 
endurable. However, there were many cases 
where American soldiers fighting with their 
gas-masks on tore them off in order to see and 
fight better. Some of them lived; many of 
them paid the price. 

If the eyepieces became blurred it was pos- 
sible to wipe them by thrusting the mask 
tissue — which is purposely loose and baggy 
about the eyes — inward Avith the fingers and 
then wiping the glasses with the tissue, after 
which the tissue is drawn back into position. 
Of course, this is all done from the outside of 
the mask, but the tissue is pushed inward so 
that the inside of the glasses are wiped. In 
other words, the baggy portion is simply folded 
inward until the inside of the glasses are 
touched. 

There is no taste to the air as a result of its 
passing through the chemicals. The masks 
were supposed to be good for forty-eight hours 
of continuous use. Of course, no one ever had 
to wear a mask as long as that. I am not sure 



320 WITH SEEING EYES 

what the record is for the wearing of masks, but 
men have kept them on for several hours at a 
time. 

If possible, one should remain reasonably 
quiet while wearing a gas-mask, for the very 
simple reason that the more the exertion the 
more labored is the breathing under any cir- 
cumstances, and thus exertion rendered gas- 
masks trebly obnoxious. 

Just before the war closed, America was 
putting out a new mask that was far superior 
to any other. It is impossible for me to give 
a full description of it here, but it had no nose- 
clip or mouthpiece and one could wear it with- 
out any discomfort, running or performing any 
work while wearing it almost as easily as with- 
out it. A large number of these new masks 
had been sent across to France, but I am not 
certain as to whether or not any of them had 
been issued before hostilities ended. 

It was one of the greatest blessings invented 
during the war. The new mask would save 
many thousands of lives, for the old ones were 
so uncomfortable that one always hesitated to 
the last second — and oftentimes too long — be- 



HELMETS AND GAS-MASKS 321 

fore putting on the mask, and oftentimes re- 
moved it too soon. With the new mask there 
would be no occasion for the reluctance in 
donning it, and the likelihood of its being re- 
moved too soon would be less. 

The question is frequently asked as to how 
gas alarms were given. There are almost as 
many answers to this question as there were 
outfits in the field. Usually each outfit decided 
on its own gas alarm. In the trenches auto- 
mobile klaxons and large bells, similar to 
dimier-bells on American farms, were much in 
use, and the good old-fashioned, ever-ready 
shout was always in order. Whoever detected 
gas shouted " Gas! " and whoever was nearest 
the klaxon, bell, or whatever was used, sounded 
the alarm, while every one held his breath and 
donned his mask. 

" How did they detect gas? " is another ques- 
tion. It is difficult to answer clearly. So far 
as I was able to discover, there was no royal 
way of detecting gas. One detected it or one 
did not detect it, and that proposition entered 
largely into the question of his future health 
and happiness. I always thought of the old 



322 WITH SEEING EYES 

recipe for deciding whether one had picked 
mushrooms or toadstools: " You cook them and 
eat them — and if you die they're toadstools." 

Perhaps you can get the application to this 
gas question — and perhaps not. You see or 
smell something — and if you die it's gas. Of 
course, it wasn't always necessary for some one 
to be gassed in order to determine that gas had 
arrived. Gas sentries were on duty, whose 
business it was to note every shell, every 
peculiar coloring of the air, every suspicious 
odor. Oftentimes the sound of the exploding 
gas shell told the story, at other times the ap- 
pearance of the slightly colored vapor fore- 
warned, and at other times the first faint odor 
of the stuff was the means of its detection. 
Naturally, there were false alarms without 
number, so that many of the soldiers became 
skeptical and were in no hurry to put on their 
masks. As a consequence there were many 
casualties from gas that could have been 
avoided had not the men become Doubting 
Thomases because of false alarms. 

Personally I was very fortunate as regards 
gas attacks. They took place all around me. 



HELMETS AND GAS-MASKS 323 

I have reached sectors where attacks had taken 
place but a short time before, and where the 
odor still clung- to the bushes, and heavy gas 
attacks were made on sectors an hour after I 
left, but all I ever received was a dose of 
" tear " gas. I felt as if some one had sud- 
denly dashed cayenne pepper, smartweed, and 
a few other similar articles into my eyes. They 
burned and smarted and the tears gushed so 
freelj^ that an officer standing near by forgot 
his own plight long enough to suggest to me 
that all I needed was a towel and my bath 
would be complete. 

There were several different kinds of gases 
used by both sides, a fact discussed so often 
that I will not go into that phase. But let no 
one imagine for a moment that the Americans 
were backward in the use of gas. They did 
not choose gas warfare. The enemy began 
it — and the Yanks carried it out a little more 
overwhelmingly than any other soldiers. 

It is a fact not generallj^ in circulation, too, 
that America had a new gas in course of manu- 
facture that would have almost wiped out the 
enemy wherever it was used. The plans were 



324 WITH SEEING EYES 

all set for a general use of this new gas wHen 
the big Allied drive should commence in the 
spring of 1919 — for do not permit any one to 
convince you that the army leaders had any 
expectation of the end coming when it did. 

True, you doubtless received letters from 
soldiers over there written during the summer 
of 1918 in which they assured you that the war 
would end before Christmas. It did. But 
that does not prove anything beyond the fact 
that soldiers were basing prognostications on 
their wishes — and they chanced to guess right. 
The French will tell you — and so will the Eng- 
lish — that that sort of letter-writing went on all 
through the war. Year after year the war was 
to end " in six months." In January and Feb- 
ruary of 1918 I heard American officers offer- 
ing to wager that it would end before the 
Fourth of July, and men were writing that they 
would all be home for Thanksgiving. 

If one keeps on predicting the end " in a few 
months " there is bound to come a time when 
his last predictions will come true. So it was 
with those who confidently wrote home during 
the summer that the war would end soon. 



HELMETS AND GAS-MASKS 325 

The leaders of the armies expected the 
enemy to hold at what was known as the 
Hmdenberg line ; they expected the weather to 
break up and thus aid the Germans in resist- 
ing further advance, and the plan was for a 
tremendous smash in the spring of 1919, a 
smash participated in by an American army of 
four million men, a smash that would end the 
war by late summer or early fall. But the foe 
became demoralized, Germany went to pieces 
at home — and the end came suddenly. 



CHAPTER XXI 

SHELLS, TRAITOES, AND RELIGION 

YOU have read so much about life in the 
trenches, about the desperate fighting, 
etc., that I am giving my attention to 
other phases — to acquainting you with the mul- 
titude of facts that others have not told. I 
want you to know about the dugouts, the ob- 
servation-posts, the listening-patrols, the ob- 
servation-balloons, the barbed wire, etc., etc. 

Some have asked, " How deep is a trench? " 
When I was a small boy an old whaling cap- 
tain came into the neighborhood on a visit, and 
I gazed upon him with awe. He had actually 
been on the sea fighting and slaying great, big 
whales! Then suddenly the thought came to 
me: Just how big was a whale? I decided to 
question the Captain. 

" Captain Eli," I asked one day, " how big 

is a whale? " 

326 



SHELLS, TRAITORS, AND RELIGION 327 

He looked at me, blinked solemnly, and re- 
plied: 

" Douse my toplights, lad — it depends alto- 
gether upon the size of the whale." 

Young as I was I saw the point. I had as 
well have asked, " How big is a man, or a 
house? " And this illustrates my point. 
" How deep is a trench? " It depends upon its 
depth. Some trenches were very deep and 
some were very shallow. Some were ten or 
twelve feet deep, and others were so shallow 
that one had to stoop considerably in order to 
avoid being fired at by snipers. 

I J- "ve been in trenches where they had 
guards posted at the shallow spots to warn ab- 
sent-minded Yanks who came ambling along 
out of the deep sections, thinking of home and 
sweetheart, and utterly oblivious of the fact 
that in a moment they would be fully exposed 
to the view of a boche sharp-shooter. 

" Crouch! " would yell the guard. Person- 
ally, I was surprised to find what a success I 
was as a croucher whenever I came to these 
places. Not at all willowy in my physical 
make-up, nevertheless I acquired the art of 



328 WITH SEEING EYES 

crouching until I was a close competitor of the 
dachshund. 

Often the trenches were floored with duck- 
boards. You have heard much about duck- 
boards in the trenches, but did any one ever ex- 
plain what they were? Simply narrow boards 
— slats — nailed across stringers. They served 
to keep one's feet out of much of the Avater — 
but usually not all. Also, as a general thing, 
they were so slippery with mud and slush of 
various kinds that making one's way along 
duckboards was not an unmixed joy, especially 
as here and there a few boards — or perhaps all 
boards for a distance of several feet — w ild be 
missing. 

And yet I have seen the time when I made 
fairly good speed along slippery duckboards. 
One occasion in particular rises to my memory. 
I was perhaps a hundred yards from the near- 
est dugout when the German batteries sud- 
denly began bombarding us. For some time 
our batteries had been shelling the boche, and 
now Fritz opened on us with a hurricane of 
shells that shrieked about us and exploded with 
crashes like unto boiler explosions. 



SHELLS. TRAITORS, AND RELIGION 329 

Everybody started for the dugouts. 
" W-h-ee-e-e-crash ! " " W-h-ee-e-e-crash ! " 
they came, geysers of dirt spoutmg high into 
the air with every explosion, limbs of trees fly- 
ing in all directions, and shrapnel and shell 
fragments whining viciously. It seemed to me 
that many of those shells were coming directly 
toward me, and momentarily I expected to be 
blown to atoms. 

I have heard it said that one never hears the 
shell that is going to hit him, so it is of no use 
to dodge. That is rank nonsense. One may 
never remember havmg heard it, but it is heard, 
just the same. One can hear shells coming, 
and after he has heard one he never forgets the 
sound. It is a peculiarly deadly whistling 
sound. In the open the soldiers would throw 
themselves prostrate the instant they heard 
that ominous whistling shriek. After some ex- 
perience they learned to judge by the sound 
whether the shell was coming near them or not, 
so that it was not necessary to " hit the 
ground " at every whistle. 

These were 77's that the Germans were hurl- 
ing at us on this occasion, a shell very similar 



330 WITH SEEING EYES 

to the famous French 75's, and an inferno 
seemed to have broken loose, an inferno that 
whistled and crashed and was filled with flying 
debris. 

Friends have asked me if I ran for the dug- 
out. I shall tell the truth. I did not run. I 
have always contended that there was no need 
for a man to run if he could walk as fast as I 
did. But at that I was not the first one to reach 
the shelter of the dugout for which I was mak- 
ing. It all goes to show that Age cannot com- 
pete with Youth in athletics. Perhaps the fact 
that the duckboards along which I had to make 
my way were as slippery as if they had been 
carefully smeared with axle-grease had some- 
thing to do with the fact that I did not run. 

After a moment or two of this firing with 
77's alone the Germans added 157's to their 
bombardment, and then the earth began to rock 
beneath the terrible concussions. The hot wind 
beat against my face in waves with each explo- 
sion, and the entire universe — sky and earth — 
seemed to heave and pitch dizzily. One 77 
landed so close to me that I was staggered by 
the explosion and felt the sting of flying dirt 



SHELLS, TRAITORS, AND RELIGION 331 

against my face, but by a miracle I was other- 
wise mitouched and finally reached the dugout 
in safety. 

Here we were safe — unless one of the big 
shells dropped squarely upon the place, in 
which case this volume would not have been 
written. And here we remained for more than 
an hour of terrific shelling that stripped trees, 
blew them to pieces, tore great pits in the earth, 
and killed eight soldiers before they could reach 
shelter. That there were no more casualties 
was remarkable, and was due alone to the fact 
that the American position was well chosen as 
regards protection. 

When the bombardment began the Ameri- 
can gunners were driven from their pieces and 
sought shelter in dugouts, also, and there they 
remained until the hurricane of German rage 
had spent itself, and then the Yanks sprang 
back to their guns and opened vigorously on 
their enemies. 

What to me was the oddest sensation I felt 
at any time while at the front, always was mine 
Avhen I was between opposing batteries and the 
shells of both Americans and Germans were 



332 WITH SEEING EYES 

whining over my head. This was my experi- 
ence day after day, and one that was decidedly 
interesting. In fact, this was always one's ex- 
perience when in the front trenches, for the 
artillery would be from half a mile to two or 
three miles in the rear of the trenches, firing 
over them at the enemy, who, of course, was 
also firing over the trenches in order to reach 
the artillery positions. 

So long as the artillery fought each other the 
men in the trenches could with perfect calmness 
listen to the duel — but the disconcerting fact 
was that one never knew at what instant Fritz 
would change and bombard the forward posi- 
tions. Day after day I would listen to this 
thing. Occasionally there would be lulls when 
perhaps only one gun was firing rather lazily, 
and then it was that one had the best opportu- 
nity of listening to the roar of the gun, fol- 
lowed immediately by the " Wh-ee-e-e " of the 
shell passing overhead, and then a moment or 
two later would be heard the dull boom as the 
shell exploded two or three miles away. 

The portion of Alsace held by the Americans 
and French was swarming with traitors and 



SHELLS, TRAITORS, AND RELIGION 333 

spies who continually signaled the Germans. 
A number of these were caught and punished, 
several times as many were not caught, and a 
few were discovered but not arrested. This 
seems strange, at first. But the Americans, 
especially, found that by permitting these 
traitors to come and go apparently unsus- 
pected, and watching them, much could be 
learned. 

For instance, I know of a certain battered 
village far over in Alsace that was occupied by 
American troops. A few civilians clung to the 
place, also, and among them were one or two 
who were soon spotted as spies. A close watch 
was kept on these fellows, and always their ac- 
tions were a sure indication of what to expect 
from the Germans with whom they were in 
communication. On more than one occasion 
when these traitors were seen to suddenly leave 
the village for points back of the lines the 
American officers promptly ordered their men 
to shelter just in time to escape the bombard- 
ments the Germans put over. The traitors 
knew when the firing was to commence and 
left. The Americans acted on the fact. These 



334 WITH SEEING EYES 

men, watched as they were, unconsciously 
served our troops and were able to do but little 
harm. 

In these villages in Alsace occupied by the 
American and French troops German was the 
prevailing language, although nearly every- 
body spoke more or less French. They pre- 
tended the most devoted loyalty to the Allied 
cause, but nobody of the Allied armies was 
badly fooled. Out in the front lines night after 
night we could look back and see strange sig- 
nals, but only occasionally were these traitors 
caught in the act. And in the daytime they 
would use the most innocent-appearing means 
of signaling. 

One old woman used to take her cows to pas- 
ture each morning. Vigilant, keen-minded 
Yanks soon noted that there was something 
rather odd about her procedure. One morning 
she would take one cow, another morning two 
cows herded closely together, on another morn- 
ing the cows would be widely separated, and 
perhaps on another morning a piece of old 
carpet would lie across the back of one cow. 
Carefully watching her, they discovered that 



SHELLS, TRAITORS, AND RELIGION 335 

she had rather an elaborate signal code that she 
used daily by means of her cows. She spent 
the remainder of the war in close imprison- 
ment. 

Of course, along the front lecturing and all 
similar work was very uncertain, as conditions 
were constantly changing, and so were the 
troops. Oftentimes a lecture, entertainment, 
or even a church service planned for a certain 
j)lace had to be abandoned because of heavy 
shelling that drove everybody to dugouts and 
bomb-proofs. 

In many places I visited, men were not per- 
mitted to assemble in groups of more than three 
or four for fear of drawing the German fire. 
The enemy's aeroplanes were over us continu- 
ally, and their observation balloons — " sau- 
sages," as they were called — were equally ob- 
servant of all activity in the trenches and imme- 
diately in the rear. I have kno^vn the assem- 
bling of half a dozen men about a pump to 
bring a dozen German shells, the result of the 
assemblage having been spotted and reported 
to a German battery by one of their planes. 
As a consequence, a guard was usually posted 



336 WITH SEEING EYES 

at such places whose duty it was to see that the 
man who came for water did not loiter to swap 
yarns with others. 

But the army officers gave us every assist- 
ance and privilege compatible with proper pre- 
cautions for the safety of their men, and our 
entertainers played and sang in the trenches, 
in the dugouts, in the cellars of demolished 
houses — anywhere a squad of men could be as- 
sembled. My experience as a lecturer along 
the front was similar. One did not expect vast 
audiences up there. 

And, as I have remarked, one sometimes 
drove to certain points expecting to be greeted 
by an audience of Yanks only to find that the 
outfit had been moved and a detachment of 
French had taken possession. I remember one 
fruitless visit of this kind that I made over in 
Alsace that had its humorous features. When 
I arrived at the hut, about a quarter of a mile 
in the rear of the front trenches, I found that 
only a few American soldiers were in that sec- 
tor, and that the place was being held by Indo- 
Chinese. 

A moving-picture show had been promised 



SHELLS, TRAITORS, AND RELIGION 337 

the Chinese for that evening preceding mj^ ad- 
dress to the Americans, and the " Chinks," as 
the Americans called them, crowded the little 
hut to the door. The odor was something ter- 
rible, and one by one the few Americans in the 
hut got up and made their way to the fresh air 
— all but one Yank who was tremendously in- 
terested in the picture and solved the problem 
by donning his gas-mask. Thus protected 
against the odors he enjoyed ( ?) the movie. 

But when it was over the stench — for it was 
nothing less — still clung to the place, and the 
lecture was declared off. The next morning- 
more than a hundred of these Chinese were 
casualties as the result of a gas attack. I might 
remark in passing that the testimony was that 
these Chinese troops fought well on the de- 
fensive. Given a section of trenches and told 
to hold it, they would do so, stubbornly, crouch- 
ing and sheltering themselves as best they could 
when under bombardment, and then springing 
to the parapet and vigorously repelling what- 
ever infantry attack might follow the shelling. 
But they were of slight use on the offensive, 
which caused one wag to remark that it seemed 



338 WITH SEEING EYES 

very strange — as " the Chinks certainly were 
offensive enough at any time." 

Whenever possible the chaplains or the 
Y. M. C. A. men held religious services along 
the front, even though the services were neces- 
sarily brief and often broken up by attacks. 
These services were always welcomed by the 
men, so far as my experience went, and I feel 
qualified to testify as I visited many sections 
of the front lines. 

Would you know the four cardinal sins of 
the soldiers — as declared by the soldiers them- 
selves? I will tell you. A questionnaire was 
distributed among the men and the list as re- 
vealed by this vote resulted in the following, in 
the order named: Cowardice, Selfishness, 
Stinginess, Bragging. I offer the list without 
comment. 

Since returning home I have heard much dis- 
cussion — some of it in tones that approached 
awe — concerning " the soldier's religion," and 
" the religion of the trenches." I have seen evi- 
dences that churches were uncertain as to just 
what this meant or would mean; I have ob- 
served that many folks imagined that the 



SHELLS, TRAITORS, AND RELIGION 339 

American soldier over there had discovered and 
hugged to his soul something strange and new 
in religion, and that when he came home he 
would have this Something all ready to be 
turned loose on a breathless and wondering na- 
tion. All of which is bosh — nothing less. 

The American soldier over there clung to the 
good, old-fashioned (if I may be permitted the 
expression in this connection) religion of his 
forefathers. The " religion of the trenches " 
was the religion he had known in the little 
country churches and in the cities of his home- 
land. There was nothing new about it. It was 
the religion that had comforted his mother and 
his father and their mothers and fathers. And 
he wanted his religion kept clean and un- 
tainted. 

I have heard people say that they supposed 
one would have to be " very diplomatic " in 
discussing religion with the soldiers in France, 
and that no doubt experience taught that it was 
best to interest the men in something else first 
and then adroitly bring in the religious phase. 
AVith all of my power I deny this. I declare 
emj)hatically that no one ever had to apologize 



340 WITH SEEING EYES 

to an American soldier for discussing religion 
with him. When we had a religious service we 
proclaimed it as such, and the men came 
gladly. We did not camouflage it with a lot of 
stunts. 

The American soldier is " square," and he 
wants to be treated " on the square." To my 
notion that is the essence of Christianity, the 
very life blood of the religions of our fore- 
fathers — and that is the " religion of the 
trenches." That is what the American soldier 
will expect of America — and especially of those 
who profess to be followers of God. Over 
there at grips wdth death they came to despise 
hypocrisy as never before, perhaps, and to ad- 
mire the true, the sincere, and the steadfast 
with all the devotion of their souls. 

They rejoice in tearing away shams and 
masks, and only those who have affected these 
shams and masks in religion need worry about 
" the soldier's religion." 



CHAPTER XXII 

PATROLS AND AIRMEN 

THE dugouts, the same as the trenches, 
were of various dmiensions. Some 
were mere holes dug in the side of the 
trenches — damp, unventilated caves in which 
soldiers were crowded in a distressing, but nec- 
essary, way — while others were quite commo- 
dious and pleasant. 

The biggest dugout I was ever in was in the 
side of a hill, and was about sixty feet below 
the surface. Large forest trees grew over it. 
The opening was protected by heavy timbers 
and sand-bags, and thick blankets suspended at 
three different places, about five feet apart, in 
the entrance tunnel served as gas curtains. 
When gas attacks came these blankets were 
dropped and served to keep the gas out of the 
dugout. 

This entrance tunnel extended straight back 

into the hill a distance of forty-five paces; 

341 



342 WITH SEEING EYES 

about fifteen feet from its end a cross tunnel 
extended about twenty paces to the left and 
about tliirty paces to tlie right. Heavy beams 
and braces rendered the dugout proof against 
collapse. Opening off from this cross tunnel 
were little " rooms " where the men slept. 
There were also bunks in tiers all along the 
cross tunnel. The place was lighted by elec- 
tricity obtained by means of power furnished 
by a waterfall a short distance from the place. 
This dugout was well ventilated, having an- 
other opening for entrance or exit carefully 
hidden among some underbrush back in the 
forest, winding steps cut in the earth leading 
to it from the tunnels. 

From the trenches listening-patrols would 
crawl out into No Man's Land every night, 
stealthily making their way right up to the 
German trenches or outposts and carefully 
noting all activity, such as marching troops, 
unusual truck train movements, etc., and often- 
times overhearing conversations carried on by 
the Germans. 

For this extremely perilous duty no details 
were made, as a rule, but alwavs the officer in 



PATROLS AND AIRMEN 343 

charge found a larger list of volunteers than he 
could use. I have known American boys whose 
duties kept them back of the trenches during 
the day to plead for the chance to join a listen- 
ing-patrol in No jNIan's Land at night. Usu- 
ally these patrols blacked their faces, the better 
to escape detection when the enemy fired flare- 
shells which lighted uj) No Man's Land with a 
brilliance that boded ill for all who were prowl- 
ing about out there. 

When these flare-shells were fired there was 
only one thing for the members of the patrols 
to do, and that was to lie as motionless as the 
dead until the flares faded. Oftentimes bugs 
and mosquitoes bit and tortured them until 
only the most supreme self-control could keep 
the men motionless, but not a muscle did they 
dare move. And all the time while h'^ing there 
beneath the light of these flare-shells they knew 
that any breath might be their last, for keen 
German eyes scanned every foot of the ground, 
and not infrequently showers of bullets swept 
the field. 

Only the coolest and most daring were fit for 
such important service. It was my good for- 



344 WITH SEEING EYES 

tune to number among my friends one of these 
scout officers, Lieutenant J. T. Hale, Jr., of 
the 125th Infantry, afterward promoted to 
captain for gallantry, and invalided home se- 
verely wounded. Under his guidance I saw 
much of the territory covered by his patrols, 
with him I crawled out through the barbed 
wire into ISTo Man's Land to " have a look," 
and with him I visited a cleverly concealed ob- 
servation-post. This observation-post was so 
camouflaged that no enemy was likely to detect 
it, and it was so strongly protected by railroad 
rails and sand-bags that only a direct hit by a 
big shell would have destroyed it. Yet from 
that little place one looked out through inter- 
stices with powerful telescopes and field-glasses 
across No Man's Land and had a good view of 
the German lines and the towns back of the 
German lines, a view that extended miles in 
any direction. 

Just in front of us lay the ruined, deserted 
village of Aspach-le-bas, about midway be- 
tween the American lines and the German 
trenches. I have seen No Man's Land at many 
other points, and each view always held much 



PATROLS AND AIRMEN 345 

of interest, for no section of it was like any 
other portion, and yet whenever I think of No 
Man's Land my memory brings me the picture 
of Aspach-le-bas as I saw it one July day, its 
battered walls and roofs standing silent and 
shimmering in the midsummer heat, the color- 
ing of its stone walls and red-tiled roofing, to- 
gether with its absence of life, suggesting a 
great panoramic painting. Everywhere was 
desolation. 

At night this village was usually occu^^ied 
by German outposts and patrols, and often 
during the daytime the Americans crawled for- 
ward and entered the place, the Germans Avith- 
drawing at daylight. It was almost exactly in 
the center of the strip between the lines, and 
was jokingly referred to as the capital of No 
Man's Land. 

Every one has read much concerning the 
extensive use of barbed wire by both sides, and 
yet no words can give even a faint conception 
of the perfect wilderness of this Avire that 
marked the front and " near-front " in France, 
for you must know that there were vast quanti- 
ties (one is tempted to mix metaphors and in- 



346 WITH SEEING EYES 

discriminately refer to " wildernesses " and 
" oceans " and " forests " in trying to depict 
quantities ) of this wire strung over great areas 
back of the lines. Long before one reached the 
trenches he made his way through barbed wire 
defenses. These behind-the-line defenses of 
wire were not closely connected, however. 
Wide gaps were left in them, through which 
troops and supplies could move without hin- 
drance, but which could very quickly be closed 
behind retreating troops, if a retirement ever 
became necessary. 

There were usually three or four lines of 
this wire, the lines being ten to twenty -five feet 
apart. The wire was on posts and trestles from 
three to five feet high, the lines zigzagging here 
and there across the country in a most confus- 
ing way, a scheme that trebled the defensive 
value of it. The different lines of wire were 
also connected with entanglements of wire, so 
that the term, " wilderness " seems to me to 
best describe it. In many cases light X-shaped 
frames were used. On these the wire was 
strung profusely, and this gave a portable wire 
defense, it being possible to move these en- 



PATROLS AND AIRMEN 347 

tanglements here and there as might be de- 
sired. 

One of the questions that every man over 
there used to propound to everybody else, with 
never a reply, was this: " What will be done 
with all of this wire after the war — and how 
will they do it?" 

Men going on listening-patrol into No 
Man's Land generally covered their steel hel- 
mets with cloth or else laid them aside entirely, 
wearing their caps instead, because it was prac- 
tically impossible to crawl through the entan- 
glements without frequent " ping," " ping," 
"ping" of helmet against the wire. Most of the 
helmets worn by the Indo-Chinese troops were 
made with a thin covering of cork over the steel, 
because of this necessity for silence in crawling 
through wire. Perhaps there were other troops 
who had such protected helmets. If so, I did 
not see them. 

The day I visited the trenches before As- 
pach-le-bas — which is directly opposite the im- 
portant city of Mulhausen, then German, and 
into which I could look with glasses and note 
the city's activity — the German planes were 



348 WITH SEEING EYES 

over us as usual, scouting and searching for 
battery positions and such other information as 
they might be able to get. The result was that 
our ground batteries were firing at the planes 
continually, which fact did not disturb us ex- 
cept when the planes would reach a point di- 
rectly above us, and then the shrapnel and shell 
fragments from our own guns would shower all 
around us, dropping from a height of fifteen 
thousand feet or more, where the shells had ex- 
ploded. 

These fragments were of various sizes and 
would rain down through the trees with a low 
whining sound, as if a multitude of insects were 
singing monotonously. When this happened 
there was but one thing to do — get into a dug- 
out as quickly as possible, for a shell fragment 
falling from a height of fifteen thousand feet 
was no nice thing to receive on top of the head, 
helmet or no helmet. I never knew of any one 
being killed in this way, but it is little short of a 
miracle that many were not. 

I have been in towns just back of the lines 
where batteries were firing at German planes 
directly overhead, the shrapnel and fragments 



PATROLS AND AIRMEN 349 

of shells raining down in the streets, and yet I 
never heard of any one being hit, although it 
must be that there were cases of serious injury 
from this cause. People would hug close to 
the buildings and go on about their business 
while the planes buzzed, the guns roared, and 
the fragments rattled. Of course, these planes 
were scouting for information and were not 
doing any bombing. 

Really, it is fascinating — or always was to 
me — to watch the ground batteries firing at 
planes. Up there fifteen thousand feet — per- 
haps higher — one can just faintly make out the 
planes, dim specks apparently the size of a 
hawk, but even at that height the telltale sound 
of the motors can be heard, and all about the 
specks little puffs of white or black smoke will 
break out in the sky and go floating lazily 
away, the explosion of the shells coming to the 
watchers below with a faint sound like unto the 
bursting of a sky-rocket at a great height. On 
clear days photographs of ground positions 
could be taken from a height of from fifteen 
thousand to twenty thousand feet. 

Sometimes shells with white smoke were used 



350 WITH SEEING EYES 

and sometimes shells with black smoke. Gun- 
ners have given me different reasons for the 
use of the two kinds of shells, but the majority 
of them said that they used shells with the kind 
of smoke that would best show on the back- 
ground against which they were shooting. 
Thus, if they were firing against a cloudless 
blue sky they would use white smoke, for it can 
be easily seen against the background of blue, 
while they would use black smoke if the planes 
were flying with a background of fleecy white 
clouds. This enabled them to " spot their 
shots " easily and made it easier for other bat- 
teries farther away and not yet in the action to 
trace the course of the planes. 

It is doubtful if there was any phase of fight- 
ing that depended more on chance than did the 
work of the batteries firing at planes. I have 
never seen any statistics on the subject, but I 
am sure that figures would show that thousands 
of shots M^ere fired at planes to every machine 
that was hit. This is no reflection on the gun- 
nery. But the fact is that it was but little more 
than chance if a plane were hit — unless, of 
course, the machine was flying very low, in 



PATROLS AND AIRMEN 351 

which case the machine-guns, drenching the air 
with a torrent of bullets, had a good chance to 
make a hit. But even this would be more or 
less of a chance. 

Nevertheless, whenever a plane came within 
range the batteries banged away at it so long 
as it could be reached. But the fact that they 
seldom struck a plane does not mean that the 
firing of the batteries was a useless waste. 
Oftentimes they did not fire with the expecta- 
tion of a hit. They simply put up a barrage in 
front of the planes that perhaps would force 
the airmen to turn back. 

This was the plan of the anti-aircraft bat- 
teries defending Paris and other cities. They 
fired not at the machines — except in occa- 
sional instances, perhaps — but in front of them, 
to throw up such a barrier of death that no 
airmen could pass. 

Very often the barrage was effective in this 
way, putting such a wall of bursting shells in 
front of the planes that the flyers dared not at- 
tempt to go through. I have seen many planes 
forced to turn back because of this barrage, 
and I have also seen many planes that turned. 



352 WITH SEEING EYES 

circled, flew this way and that in an attempt to 
deceive the gunners, and then suddenly dashed 
forward again at full speed, crossing the bar- 
rage in safety. 

Of course, these planes had to undergo a con- 
tinual fire from the time they were first discov- 
ered until they finally got back across their 
own lines, for as soon as they would escape one 
battery they would enter the zone of another 
battery, and so on, stormed at with machine- 
guns and 75's unceasingly, and oftentimes at- 
tacked by other airmen. I have seen planes 
maneuver and dash safely through the fire of 
one batterj'^ only to be shot down by another 
battery farther on. It takes unfaltering cour- 
age to be an airman. 

I used to marvel at myself as I watched the 
batteries hurling death at the men flying so 
high above me. I do not love suffering and 
horror; I have always felt sincere in my sym- 
pathy for my fellow man; I hate war and all 
of its terrible destruction of the young man- 
hood of nations; I never saw a German pris- 
oner without thinking that he was near and 
dear to some one, that probably an old mother 



PATROLS AND AIRMEN 353 

was breaking her heart because of his dangers, 
and I never was able to stifle the hope that he 

would live to comfort her. And yet 

As I watched tlie planes and saw the shells 
breaking all about them, I felt the most intense 
eagerness to see the shrapnel reach its mark, to 
see those machines and their human masters 
brought crashing to earth. What peculiar 
twist is there in the human make-up that per- 
mits this? It is war. That does not explain 
(at least not- satisfactorily to me), but what 
other explanation is there? It becomes an im- 
personal matter. JMy intellect told me that up 
there were human beings — Germans, yes, but 
probably pretty decent fellows, doing their 
duty as the accident of birth had given them 
to see their duty, men who were respected and 
honored by those who knew them, and whom I 
doubtless would have respected and honored 
had not the breath of war blown us into two 
separate worlds — but in spite of all that my in- 
tellect told me, I found myself breathlessly 
watching t^e bursting shells and eagerly long- 
ing to see them wreak their work of destruc- 
tion. 



354 WITH SEEING EYES 

I cannot understand it. Perhaps you can. 
Until such a twist in the human make-up is 
understood and overcome, war with its awful- 
ness will continue to be a possibility. 



CHAPTER XXIII 

THE CROSSROADS UNDER FIRE 

I HAD been invited to take dinner that day 
with some of the officers in their dugout in 
the front-line trench, and after several 
dodgings into shelter to escape the falling frag- 
ments from our anti-aircraft shells I reached 
the place and was cordially received. 

We ate what the circumstances of the occa- 
sion permitted us to have, and were thankful 
for every mouthful, all of it having been 
brought up from some point in the rear by men 
who faced death in carrying food to their com- 
rades in front. 

I have heard a few returned soldiers com- 
plain that they were not well fed while at the 
front, but I have heard multitudes of others, 
who grasped the facts, saj'', in substance: " Yes, 
we were on short rations at times; there were 
occasions when we lived on hardtack and leaves 
for a day or two — but probabl}'^ a dozen boys 

had died trying to get the food to us." 

355 



356 WITH SEEING EYES 

And this is the truth of the matter. I have 
been in the front lines under fire and have my- 
self seen those heroic details coming up from 
the rear, bringing food to the boys in the 
trenches, braving the roaring, shrieking, crash- 
ing shells in order that their conu'ades might 
have the food that Avas due them. To my mind, 
no more gallant deeds were performed than the 
courageous service rendered by these men. 

While we partook of the meagre dinner on 
this day the shells were screaming over us, an 
American battery and a German battery hav- 
ing begun a duel. 

In an adjoining room of the dugout I heard 
a guitar strumming. Opening the connecting 
door, I looked in. A sergeant with his helmet 
tilted rakishly over one ear was seated on a keg, 
fingering the guitar and softly singing: 

"Oh, the infantry, the infantry, 
With dirt behind their ears ; 
The infantry, the infantry, 
They don 't get any beers ; 
The cavalry, the artillery, 
And the lousy engineers. 
They couldn't lick the infantry 
In a hundred miUion years. " 



THE CROSSROADS UNDER FIRE 357 

After finishing our meal we smoked and 
" visited." One of the officers, a boyish lieu- 
tenant, lighted his cigarette, yawned, and re- 
marked : 

" These front trenches constitute the great- 
est rest cure in the world." 

His name was John Champagne, and less 
than a week later he was killed instantly. Of 
the three other officers who sat at that table, 
Lieutenant Crabbe was severely wounded the 
same day, Lieutenant Lawrence Smith was 
gassed, and Lieutenant Hale was severely 
wounded a little later. Such is the " rest cure " 
of the front lines. Before the war ended four- 
teen officers of that battalion of the Thirty- 
second Division met death in the fighting in 
Alsace, on the Marne, around Soissons and 
Juvigny, and in the Argonne. At the close of 
the fighting in the Argonne only one out of the 
battalion's thirty-three officers was on his feet. 

After dinner we returned to Michelbach, the 
little village just back of the trenches where 
battalion headquarters had been established. 
This had once been a village of perhaps 200 
souls, but now it was battered and wrecked and 



358 WITH SEEING EYES 

all of its former inhabitants had fled except one 
old man and his wife. They elected to remain 
and die in their home if die they must. 

Communication-trenches led from the village 
to the front line, so that one could make the 
entire journey without exposing himself above 
ground. Here Major Matthews was in com- 
mand, a splendid type of gentleman and a gal- 
lant soldier who was soon to give his life for the 
Cause. All that day I had carried the Major's 
forty-five automatic, as I had come into this 
sector without my own and the Major had in- 
sisted on removing his own belt and pistol and 
buckling it about me before I left Michelbach 
for the trenches. 

In the dugout at noon the officers had ex- 
plained to my Y. M. C. A. companion (a 
driver of a traveling canteen) and me some- 
thing about the shelling schedule followed by 
the Germans, for you should know that along 
the established front the Germans had accu- 
rately registered every important crossroads 
and other points, and these places they shelled 
at certain hours as regularly as clockwork, the 
reason for this being that experience had 



THE CROSSROADS UNDER FIRE 359 

taught that it was only at such hours that those 
points could be used to the best military advan- 
tage. Therefore, instead of shelling them in a 
haphazard way all day, they concentrated their 
fire at such times as would give the best results. 
We made careful note of the information given 
us, as it was of the utmost importance that we 
should know where we were most likely to be 
caught in a " shelling bee." Finally the officers 
referred to a certain crossroads. 

" If you ever have to pass that crossroads," 
the spokesman said, " do it before 4: 30 in the 
afternoon, or else hit it with all the speed you 
can coax out of your machine." 

I knew the spot, and so did my companion — 
and we both knew that we had to drive along 
that road that afternoon, for I was to go to an- 
other camp to lecture that evening, a fact that 
the officers did not know, and which we did not 
mention, even though we exchanged glances. 

Back in INIichelbach we opened up our can- 
teen and served the soldiers, who formed in a 
long line, keeping close to the side of an old 
stable in order that they might have the protec- 
tion, scanty as it was, of its projecting, tile- 



36o WITH SEEING EYES 

covered eaves, for a boche j)laiie was over us 
again, our batteries were giving it a hot time, 
and the fragments and shrapnel were falling 
very close to us. 

Not far away, but on the opposite side of a 
little hill, an American battery of 75's was 
firing over us, and this plane was striving to 
locate the guns. Presently the German artil- 
lery opened in reply, and for a time the shells 
flew thick and fast in both directions. But the 
Germans had made a poor guess as to our bat- 
tery position, or else their gunners were ineffi- 
cient in their work, for all of their shells were 
falling short, falling on the " near side " of the 
hill, just a short distance from where Major 
Matthews and I were standing watching the 
line, the aeroplane, an observation-balloon a 
few miles away, and the bursting shells from 
the German battery. Clouds of dirt flew high 
in the air wherever they struck, but I was re- 
joicing in the fact that the enemy's shells were 
falling short, when I heard the Major suddenly 
exclaim: 

"Wow! O gracious!" 

I looked at him in surprise, thinking he had 



THE CROSSROADS UNDER FIRE 361 

discovered some calamity unobserved by me. 
He was staring at where the German shells 
were breaking, and I heard him mutter another 
exclamation. 

"What's the matter, Major?" I asked. 
" Those shells are all falling short, aren't 
they? " 

" Yes," he replied. " They're falling short — 
but they're falling kerslap into a patch of 
strawberries I have been watching get ripe ! " 

IMore crashes, more geysers of dirt from the 
strawberry patch, and more groans from the 
Major. 

" It's a tough war," he said. 

Only a short time afterward he fell in action, 
and to-day he sleeps beneath the lilies of 
France, one of the millions of heroic soldiers 
who gave their lives that we who live might 
have a new world. 

At last the long line of soldiers at the travel- 
ing canteen dissolved, the driver packed up his 
remaining stock, and called to me that he was 
read J'- to start whenever I was. I glanced at 
my watch. It was five o'clock. The driver 
looked at his watch at the same time, and then 



362 WITH SEEING EYES 

he looked at me — and I looked at him. He did 
not say a Avord, and neither did I. He knew 
what I was thinking, and I knew what he was 
thinking. We were both remembering what 
we had been told: 

" If you ever have to pass that crossroads, do 
it before 4:30 in the afternoon, or else hit it 
with all the speed you can coax out of your 
machine/' 

It was now five o'clock — and the crossroads 
was on our travel program. The driver 
grinned at me, and I tried to grin in reply. 
Then we cranked up and started. 

The evening's artillery activity was opening 
up. Shells were " we-ee-e-e-ing " over us at 
ever-shortening intervals. Our road was a tor- 
tuous one through a heavy forest, and now 
and then the shells sent branches and bark fly- 
ing, or tore gaping craters in the ground on 
either side of the road. We were buzzing along 
at a pretty good speed — and glad of it. Sud- 
denly we shot around a curve and there ahead 
of us lay the crossroads. 

" There she is ! " exclaimed the driver. 

" Uh-huh! " I answered briefly. 



THE CROSSROADS UNDER FIRE 363 

" We-ee-e-e-crash ! " " We-ee-e-e-crash ! " 
Another crater opened close beside us and the 
shell fragments whined viciously. Then we hit 
the crossroads, but the driver forgot for the in- 
stant that I was to lecture in Sentheim and 
started to turn in the wrong direction. Re- 
membering, he slapped on the brake, shut off 
the power — and killed the engine. " We-ee-e-e- 
crash! " came a shell too close to be enjoyed. 

Right there and then I broke the world's rec- 
ord for speed in cranking a car. Quicker than 
a ground-squirrel I was out of my seat, had 
given the crank a vigorous whirl and was back 
in the car, which quickly backed, turned to the 
left and shot awaj'^ from that neighborhood 
with a speed that was comforting. 

"And you weren't killed?" asked a little 
girl who heard me spinning the yarn after I 
got home. I'll tell you the truth. 

I wasn't. 



CHAPTER XXIV 

A VISIT TO ENGLAND 

THUS the days passed, until at the close 
of July I was mformed that arrange- 
ments had been made to send me to 
England and Scotland to speak in the Ameri- 
can camps in those countries, and from there 
I was to return to America temporarily, to as- 
sist in the speaking campaign in the United 
War Work drive. 

I would not be truthful were I to say that 
the news brought me no joy, and neither would 
it be a fact were I to say that the prospect of 
soon leaving the fighting lines brought nothing 
but joy. The thought that in the compara- 
tively near future I was to be in America once 
more, back with my loved ones, was almost in- 
toxicating in its pleasure — and yet I found 
that there was a distinct sense of regret in my 

soul that I was leavmg this tremendous drama 

364 



A VISIT TO ENGLAND 365 

in which I had been permitted to have a part, 
and of which I had seen much* 

Back in Paris once more I was kept at top 
speed in getting my passports and other travel- 
ing papers j)roperly made out, and there may 
be a bit of humor in the fact that the only ar- 
ticle stolen from me in France was my rain- 
coat, which was stolen from me in the office of 
the Prefect of Police in Paris while I was hav- 
ing my passport vised. 

Then good-bye to wonderful Paris. At 
Le Havre I took passage for Southampton, 
England, and at 9 : 30 at night, without a light 
showing, we slipped away from our pier and 
started across the Channel, guarded by two 
British destroyers. 

The crossing was made Avithout incident, al- 
though the fact that subs were lurking there for 
prey was proven by the torpedoing of a hos- 
pital ship with heavy loss of life the next night 
while the vessel was crossing to England with 
her freight of maimed and suffering humanity. 

There were many delays in getting out of 
Paris and in getting aboard the boat at Le 
Havre, owing to the strict watch that was being 



366 WITH SEEING EYES 

kept upon all travelers. It was one examina- 
tion and inspection after another, trying and 
nerve-exhausting to one who was genuine and 
loyal, so I am sure that the traitor and spy 
must have had a sorrowful and anxious time of 
it while traveling. 

When our baggage was inspected at Le 
Havre every newspaper and magazine was ex- 
amined, and from them were torn all pages 
containing advertising. The reading matter 
was permitted to pass, but spies had been using 
advertisements as a means of conveying infor- 
mation, and so all these were torn out. 

At Southampton there was more delay while 
our papers were being examined, but at last we 
were on board the " boat train " for London. 
Just as we were pulling out of the station at 
Southampton my heart leaped for joy, for on 
the side of a building I had spied a big sign in 
English: " So-and-So's Little Liver Pills." 

Very commonplace, you may say. Nothing 
of the kind. For months I had seen nothing 
but French signs and placards, and now here 
was something in my native tongue. It was 
poetry! It was joy! It was an old friend ! I 



A VISIT TO ENGLAND 367 

waved my hand toward the sign, and cared 
not what others in the compartment might 
think. 

When I reached London I had the usual 
scramble for my baggage, for it might be stated 
for the benefit of those who have never been 
abroad that in the British Isles one's baggage 
is not checked. It is in France, a number and 
the name of one's destination being pasted on 
the article and the traveler being given a corre- 
sponding slip, but in the British Isles there is 
no checking. One simply drags his baggage 
around — or tips a porter to do it — tells a porter 
his destination and tips him to pile the baggage 
into the van, as the baggage car is called. A 
slip bearing the name of the town to which the 
traveler is destined is pasted on the article, 
which is then put into the van, but there is no 
claim check for it. Neither is there any one in 
the car in charge of the baggage. At each sta- 
tion the car is opened by the officials of the rail- 
way, and i^orters and passengers climb in and 
toss out whatever pleases them. Then the trav- 
eler tips a porter to take his baggage from the 
car or platform to the taxi or the " left lug- 



368 WITH SEEING EYES 

gage " room, as they term the parcel-checking 
department. In this " left luggage " room one 
may leave anything from a pocket-comb to a 
big trunk for about four cents a day. 

Traveling in the British Isles was almost as 
difficult as in France. In France one had to 
satisfy the military police at the depots and 
then report to the provost marshal with his cre- 
dentials, both before leaving a town and after 
reaching his destination. 

In the British Isles alien civilians — and I 
was rated as a civilian — were provided with 
identity books, obtainable from the police. 
These books contained twenty-two questions — 
some of them having " a," " b," and " c " sec- 
tions — which the alien (it seemed queer to be 
called an alien) must fill out, and his photo- 
graph must also be pasted in the book. The 
questions covered every point of personal de- 
scription, nationality of applicant and the ap- 
plicant's parents, name of wife, names of chil- 
dren, date of arrival in the United Kingdom, 
particulars of any service in any army, navy or 
police force, giving the name of his company 
and regiment, when mustered in, when mus- 



A VISIT TO ENGLAND 369 

tered out, rank attained, and a lot of other 
questions closely relating to these. 

If one desired to leave town he must present 
himself at police headquarters, ask permission 
to leave and have his identity book stamped 
with a permit for him to go to such place as 
he had indicated. Upon arrival at the new 
place the traveler had to report immediately to 
police headquarters and have his book stamped. 
Always he must " register in " and " register 
out." 

When one sought a hotel he was required to 
fill out a blank, giving particulars about him- 
self, where he came from, and upon departure 
he had to add to the blank a statement as to 
where he was going. These blanks were placed 
in the hands of the police by hotel-keepers. 
The police of the town to which the traveler 
was bound were notified by the police of the 
toAvn he was leaving, so that he was traced con- 
tinually. French hotels also required the fill- 
ing out of such information blanks. 

I found London as dark as Paris at night, 
with great searchlights constantly crisscrossing 
the heavens in search of aeroplanes or Zeppe- 



370 WITH SEEING EYES 

lins. Aiid I found food conditions decidedly 
worse than they were in Paris. In London it 
was necessary to produce a food-card for al- 
most everything one ate — except bread. Oddly 
enough, they did not ration bread, as they did 
in Paris. But the bread they served was the 
vilest stuff I ever ate. I know not what it was 
made of, but from the taste I always suspected 
that an assay would show strong traces of saw- 
dust. 

If one ordered meat he had to produce his 
card, from which a tiny section would be torn; 
and one had to buy his own sugar (producing 
a card when he made the purchase) and take 
it to the table with him. It was a very common 
sight to see some generous one saying to a 
sugarless one at the table, " Permit me to offer 
you some sugar," and then he would pull from 
his pocket a tin box or an envelope containing 
sugar, and offer it. For some queer reason 
they gave one all the butter he could eat for 
breakfast, putting it on the table on large 
dishes, from which the guests cut whatever 
amount they wished, but at no other meal could 
one obtain enough butter to grease a hazelnut. 



k^ 



INSTRUCTIONS— fci 



"° 13 N'.r 60163 

RATIONING ORDER, 1918. N. 10 

EMERGENCY RATION CARD. 



VoW for lA. 

Office of Imuc... 

Hold>r'> S'.:a«li 

H<Jd«r'> Addrni 

in l>i«lnct 
, Ri-fercnc No. o 



.■di^4u^-(i(^ 




Front of the English food card. 



KAN'V ADDITIONAL MEAT... COUPONS JO BE ADDED HERE.; 

._ __. 

INSTRUCTIONS TO HOLDEl?. *■ ^'"^ " ""«""■' Kcu.l.r 
I. Tim ma: co-jaon rcprocnls s <iuiiilrr ..f UJ - | — -■• - 






E.MCRCEUCy;: 
BUTTER 



fe 



3. Any coupuiu utoclicil (•> tlii& oik) 31c valid 
only if tliff whiilc curt is pr-ylufcii. A«l.:i;tnii.il 
r-ou]>>ii'i may tie atu£hril 10 i1i<> --.iio \\ I f'l 
tltiicct in exr^rfi^ional cxsrt. \<.>iii.- ••'(Ii^i.ki,. .>. 
(iii'tliii cnni iKir. niiy-iOtliti.ijiiil Djiiponmro Im) 
dCtipI liviiis Ihj sv^-cn (liij'S oicriii-mctl .,>n it 

X. If :he I-\»d Oftiec witt« ibr -la... ■ .t 
T«1,»ilcr in any of (he spucc* A B. C. K ot (... ilic 
■.»u|r»nV(i>u))k'li i!K*>^cctcIslocin only !< tiM»l 
^■•itiitt'-iciAilcinani^. Only tbc»clleriu»yucu<;h 



EMERGENCY. ; 
JAM 



Thl; Space I 'EMERGENCY, 
not to be 



(II r 




English P^ood Card. 

This card was good for one week only, and was used for meat, sugar, and 
other rationed foods. The missing coupon at the end was used for 
buying sugiu-. The missing coupons at tlie lower corner were used 
for obtaining meat in a hotel. Usually, half a coupon was sufiicient 
for a portion of meat in a hotel or restaurant. 



A VISIT TO ENGLAND 371 

The coffee served in London was unsi)eak- 
able, but that did not worry many except 
Americans, for all who were English drank tea. 
All the almanac jokes about the English and 
their tea are true. At four each afternoon the 
whole world stops, so far as London (and the 
rest of England) is concerned, and they have 
tea. The business men have it served in their 
offices, or else they go to a restaurant or hotel 
for it. But they have tea somewhere. At four 
the lobbies of the hotels are cluttered with 
maids pushing teacarts up to brawny-looking 
Englishmen, who greet the outfit with all the 
evident happiness of a schoolgirl insj^ecting a 
new j)iece of tatting. They even stop the trains 
at some convenient place about four in the 
afternoon and everj'^body piles out and takes 
tea, which is served from long tables on the 
station platform. 

I never obtained a glass of water in a Lon- 
don hotel without having to ask for it from 
one to three times, whereas in America a 
waiter sets out a glass of ice-water immedi- 
ately. 

" If water was rationed, you Americans 



372 WITH SEEING EYES 

would have a hard time," remarked a waitress 
to me in a London dining-room. 

" Why? " I asked, surprised. " Do Amer- 
icans drink more water than other nationali- 
ties? " 

" I should say so," she replied. " Americans 
are the greatest water-drinkers in the world. 
Just you notice after this." 

I did. I made it my business to linger in the 
dining-rooms as long as possible, observing, 
and I never saw an American enter who did 
not at once begin to look around for water, and 
I never saw an Englishman order a glass of it. 
They seemed to get enough water in their tea. 

Speaking of ice-water, let me say that I did 
not see such an article from the time I left New 
York until I boarded an American transport, 
the Louisville, for home. 

I spent some time in England, visiting 
American camps and also some of the English 
camps, and like most other Americans I suf- 
fered severe nerve-shock whenever I rode along 
a crowded street, for over there traffic keeps to 
the left instead of to the right. Speeding 
throuo'h London's streets in an auto with an 



A VISIT TO ENGLAND 373 

English driver I would gasp when we got into 
a jam and the driver would turn to the left. In 
America it would mean an ambulance and the 
police court. Over there it was the way to 
safety. 

By this time the Allies were driving the Ger- 
mans steadily backward, and the English were 
elated with the wonderful showing made by 
America's fighting men. Their old soreness 
over our long delay in entering the war had dis- 
appeared, and it was freely stated by them that 
they had come to believe that it was better as 
it was, better that America had kept out until 
the time when she could strike with freshness 
and vigor against a wearied Germany. And, 
too, the English freely admitted that America 
had saved the day, and that had we not arrived 
when we did the Germans would have beaten 
the French and the English. 

" We were exhausted — done for," they said. 
" The beggars would have won sure had it not 
been for America." 

The English army officers admitted the 
fighting qualities of the Americans, but con- 
tended that we were suffering too heavily, that 



374 WITH SEEING EYES 

our men were rash, that their mipetuosity was 
the result of ignorance, and that they would 
"get over it." 

*' You're wrong," I said in reply. " I recog- 
nize your viewpoint, and confess that the 
Americans do not fight according to European 
technique. I do not deny that they are im- 
petuous, and I'll admit that they will lose more 
heavily in the same length of time than would 
British soldiers — but they'll never get over it. 
It is their racial characteristic, and if the war 
lasts ten years they'll be fighting in the same 
way at the close of the tenth year. It is their 
philosophy — ' Wade in, keep smashing, pay 
the price, end the war, and go home.' " 

And I still contend that I was right. Our 
men did lose heavily — but they got results. 
They realized that they were i)aying a heavy 
price, but they argued that if the war were per- 
mitted to drag along the death-list would be 
even more heavy in the end. 

" Why not pay the price now, get it over, 
and let the living ones go home? " they asked. 
But Europe could not understand. 

The Americans became known as " rough 



A VISIT TO ENGLAND 375 

fighters," also, it is true. They had been 
goaded into war; they had hear-d so niucli of 
German treachery and cruelty, most of which 
was true, that indignation burned in their souls, 
for your Yank is a square, clean sport in every- 
thing, and he hates the other thing with a 
hatred most terrible; and after they had first 
gotten to France Germany had sneered and 
hooted at the American soldiers until every 
Yank over there was literally itching to tear up 
the boasted Prussians. 

" Turn us loose and we'll show 'em whether 
or not we can fight ! " they cried. And when 
they were turned loose they promptly kept 
their word and startled the world by their 
prowess. 

War was not a kid-glove, pink-tea affair in 
their estimation, and they acted on that theory. 
The Germans had induls^ed in so much *' kam- 
erad " trickery and murder that the American 
soon decided to take no chances, and the boche 
who wished to surrender had to " walk turkey " 
and not wink at the wrong time or he Avas 
quickly gathered to his fathers. The j^resence 
of an American division soon came to be a mat- 



376 WITH SEEING EYES 

ter of terror to the Germans opposite them, for 
when the Yanks started forward they kept 
going, fighting like devils, and the boches had 
to either rmi like rabbits, die, or sm'render 
quickly and without any false motions. 
England was thrilling with their triumphs. 



CHAPTER XXV 

IRELAND— LAND OP DISSENSION 

THE marked characteristic of the 
American soldiers in England was an 
impatience to get across to the fight- 
ing lines in France. They fretted continually, 
and every rumor of their early departure for 
the battle front was greeted with enthusiasm. 
Theirs was a spirit that the horrors of the 
world's greatest war could not conquer. 

After some time in England I went up to 
Inverness, in the far north of Scotland, and 
joined our sailors who were at work with the 
mines. And there I found the same eagerness 
to be sent to France, to join comrades fighting 
so resistlessly day by day. 

An important and dangerous task was that 

to which these sailors were assigned, but it was 

hard for them to realize that they were doing 

their full share in the war. 

" Why, we're hundreds of miles away from 
377 



378 WITH SEEING EYES 

the front," they complained, and it was my 
duty to point out to them how vital to the suc- 
cess of the Cause was the work they were doing. 
I traveled all over that section of Scotland, 
speaking to these sailors. 

Shipload after shipload of mines arrived on 
the west coast, and there they were received by 
the American lads, who worked in day and 
night shifts unloading the mines, shipping 
them to another point, where they were assem- 
bled, placed on mine-layers and then deposited 
in waters where they would most effectively 
bottle up the German ships and submarines. 

These boys were up there, in little hamlets 
on the coast, with nothing in their lives but hard 
work, bleak rocks, stormy skies, and rolling 
ocean. It was popularly asserted that it rained 
every day in one section I visited. I asked one 
of the " oldest inhabitants " if this were true. 

" No," he replied. " Some days it snows." 

I went on board the mine-laden ships and 
distributed stationery and books, I helped serve 
the shifts that changed at midnight, I talked to 
them at whatever hour and at whatever place a 
gathering could be arranged, and I found them 



IRELAND— LAND OF DISSENSION 379 

to be a remarkably clean, manly set of lads, 
eager to serve and worthy of the best traditions 
of the American navy. Among the many priv- 
ileges that were mine beyond the sea during the 
war, I count none greater than that of being 
associated with these sailors. 

And, too, America should come to know 
more fully than she does the wonderfully fine 
spirit of the Scotch people. I brought back 
with me a deeper love for the Scots than for 
an}^ other people on the other side of the ocean. 
Clean-souled, sturdy, sincere, generous to a 
marked degree in their readiness to assist the 
boj'^s from America, they deserve the most pro- 
found gratitude that our nation is capable of 
feeling — and expressing if occasion should ever 
offer. I am certain that every American sailor 
or soldier who sojourned in Scotland will bring 
home the same impression of the people of that 
nation, even though the kilts and their oddity 
of speech ofttimes amused the Yanks. 

Finishing my work in Scotland, I went 
across to Ireland, sailing for Belfast from Ar- 
drossan, a port on the Firth of Clyde, not far 
from Glasgow. As usual, we sailed at night — 



38o WITH SEEING EYES 

midnight — with darkened decks. At seven in 
the morning we were in the harbor at Belfast. 

There were not many American soldiers or 
sailors in Ireland, but there were a few, and 
these, too, were longing for something to hap- 
pen that would send them to France. 

The north of Ireland was having fairly good 
success in recruiting, although the most strenu- 
ous campaigns were in progress to secure sol- 
diers for Great Britain's armies. Irish leaders 
were making speeches, pleading for enlistments 
and declaring to the people that Ireland was 
losing the sympathy and friendship of America 
because of her attitude, her refusal to rally to 
the support of the Cause for which Civilization 
was fighting. 

In France and England one saw but few 
able-bodied men of military age who were not 
in uniform. Ireland was full of them. Her 
men were not in the armies except in compara- 
tively small numbers. The food question 
seemed to be much less serious in Ireland than 
in any of the other countries. 

Finally my journeying took me to Dublin, 
and in this section of Ireland I found seething 



IRELAND— LAND OF DISSENSION 381 

unrest. In this section there was but little suc- 
cess in recruiting. Dublin's streets were 
crowded with sturdy young men who scoffed at 
the pleas of the recruiting agents. The city 
still showed the ruin wrought by the uprising 
of 1916, when the post-office and many promi- 
nent buildings were destroyed by flames and 
gunfire. These ruins remained much as they 
were at the close of the fighting in the city on 
that occasion, nothing but the sidewalks having 
been cleared. 

It is not for me to discuss the merits of the 
dissensions that have so sadly racked Ireland. 
I am but depicting the conditions that existed 
in late August, 1918. 

Fresh from countries where every man and 
woman was straining to the utmost to further 
the Cause to which my America had so unre- 
servedly committed herself, I was not made 
happy bj'^ my observations in Ireland, and I 
frankly say that I was glad when the hour 
came for me to return to England. 

I sailed from Kingstown, on Dublin Bay, 
near Dublin, for Holyhead, on the ill-fated 
Leinster, a fast mail-boat that was sunk in the 



382 WITH SEEING EYES 

Irish Sea some time afterward with a very 
heavy loss of life. The JLeinster had no con- 
voy, but trusted to her speed. Every passen- 
ger was ordered to don a life-belt the moment 
we left the pier at Kingstown, and these we 
kept with us during the three hours required 
in our dash across the moonlit Irish sea. As 
usual, not a light was permitted on deck. From 
Holyhead a waiting train took us to London, 
where we arrived in the morning, after about 
an eight-hours' run. 

In London I received orders to be prepared 
to leave at an hour's notice for Liverpool, to 
sail for America. I was to make the homeward 
trip on an American transport, and every se- 
crecy was thrown about the sailing plans of 
these ships. One had to be ready and await 
telegraphic orders. 



CHAPTER XXVI 

THE GLOW IN THE SKY 

WHEN they did come, the orders were 
given me in a whisper, and two 
hours later I was on board a train 
for Liverpool, with instructions to report to the 
proper officer the next morning. 

At the designated hour I presented myself 
and my credentials to the officials in Liverpool, 
the naval authorities checked up my papers 
and ordered me to report on board the Louis- 
ville before noon. It was then eleven o'clock, 
but by unstinted use of a taxicab I gathered 
up my baggage at the " left luggage " depart- 
ment in the railway station and in the hotel 
and went on board on time. Fifteen minutes 
after I boarded the ship, we left the pier and 
swung down the INIersey River. 

But only for a short distance. Then we 

droi)ped anchor in the middle of the river and 

383 



384 WITH SEEING EYES 

lay there. No one could gather the least infor- 
mation as to when we would sail. Those mat- 
ters were guarded as closely as the secret as to 
where Marshal Foch was to launch his next 
blow. 

A strike of Liverpool dock laborers had 
made it necessary for the crew of the Louis- 
ville to coal the ship themselves. They had 
just finished the job when I boarded the vessel, 
and were heartily sick of it. As we swung at 
anchor in the middle of the river a coal barge 
passed us slowly. One of the colored boys 
among the Louisville's crew took a look and 
then turned his back to the barge. 

" Coal ! " he exclaimed. " Damn the stuff ! " 
He glanced at me and thought that an apology 
was due because of his language. " I cain't 
help it, Cap'n," he said. " I just naturally git 
peeved now whenever I see coal ! " 

There we lay for more than twenty-four 
hours, with no one knowing when we would 
sail — at least, no one who would tell. But at 
2: 30 the next afternoon orders were spoken, 
and in a couple of minutes we were moving — 
moving toward America. 



THE GLOW IN THE SKY 385 

Joy thrilled those of us who were passengers, 
this list consisting of not more than fifty and 
being made up of wounded soldiers, naval of- 
ficers ordered to New York to take command 
of other ships, and a number of officers of an 
American freighter that had been torpedoed 
and sunk. 

At the mouth of the river we were joined bj'- 
four other transports and a guard of five tor- 
pedo-boat-destroyers. With the transports in 
double column, the destroyers flanking us and 
scouting both ahead and in the rear of the 
transports, we steamed out into the Irish Sea 
and then turned northward. 

Our first meal on board the Louisville 
brought me the realization of many months of 
longing. The colored waiter placed a glass of 
ice-water beside my plate before he took my 
order, and at the conclusion of the meal he 
asked : 

" Will you have ice-cream, suh? " 

I did. 

It was the first ice-cream I had tasted since 
leaving New York, and I was craving it. I 
had visited a few Y. M. C. A. huts back of the 



386 WITH SEEING EYES 

lines where ice-cream was made and served to 
the soldiers — but no secretary was permitted to 
taste it. 

" What most impressed you when you got 
back to New York? " I have been asked fre- 
quently. 

The things that most forcibly impressed me 
were the riot of light, the ice-cream signs, the 
windows full of cake and candy, children who 
laughed and played, and ice-water. The first 
night I spent in New York after landing at 
noon I strolled along Broadway, reveling in 
the electric display, drinking it in and soaking 
it in. I located a nice little establishment and 
went on an ice-cream debauch. I would eat a 
dish of it, then go outside, stand on the curb 
and take another bath in the wonderful light, 
after which I would go back and eat some more 
ice-cream. I have been told by one who feels 
that she has a right to correct me that I " ought 
to be ashamed to tell it." Perhaps. But I'm 
not. I'll compromise by not telling how many 
dishes of ice-cream I ate, but I will say that 
I came near not going to bed at all that 
night. I hated to shut out the light. It was 



THE GLOW IN THE SKY 387 

harder for me to drag myself out of its glare 
than it is for a small boy to leave a monkey- 
cage. 

Yes, I took ice-cream when offered it on the 
Louisville. 

Immediately after we had gotten under way 
the gun-crews were sent to their stations, shells 
were piled beside the guns, everybody was or- 
dered into life-belts and another submarine- 
dodging voyage had begun, a voyage that 
lasted nine days and nights. 

At that time the Irish Sea and the waters 
adjacent to the north coast of Ireland were 
favorite haunts for the undersea terrors, so that 
the utmost precautions were taken while we 
were in that vicinity. Vigilance was never re- 
laxed, for that matter, but a double watch was 
on duty for the first three days and also during 
the last two days of our voyage. 

It was decidedly interesting to watch the 
methods of our protection. The trans2)orts 
were constantlj^ changing their sailing forma- 
tion, the idea being to confuse a submarine 
commander should he note the formation of the 
little fleet and dive, expecting to find the same 



388 WITH SEEING EYES 

formation and relative distances when his 
U-boat came to the surface to fire. Tlie proba- 
bilities were that while the submarine was div- 
ing toward its intended prey our vessels would 
materially change their course and their rela- 
tive positions, so that when the U-boat came up 
it would find itself entirely out of position, as 
a submarine can fire torpedoes in only one di- 
rection — straight ahead. Thus if it is out of 
position upon reaching the surface it must 
change before launching a torpedo. 

And most comforting was it to observe the 
maneuvers of the destroyers. Sometimes there 
would be two on our right side and one on our 
left, and a short time later there would be two 
on our left and one on our right, while always' 
one preceded us and one trailed us. The 
one ahead would zigzag across our bows con- 
tinually, making wide sweeps, and the one in 
our rear did much the same thing, making wide 
zigzags, while the ones on our sides darted 
ahead, lagged, circled far out, crept close in, 
etc., etc., reminding one of trained hunting- 
dogs scouring a field for game. Besides their 
heavy gun equipment, each destroyer had at its 



THE GLOW IN THE SKY 389 

stem a j)ile of the deadly depth charges, the 
terror of submarines. 

Going out the North Channel we ran into a 
very heavy storm, and for two days our vessels 
pitched, rolled and creaked in a manner that 
was most distressing to a landlubber. In fact, 
a number of sailors on the Louisville — one or 
two of whom had seen service on destroyers — 
were sick, so that I felt quite justified in being 
a wee bit unhappy. My trouble was that my 
only salvation lay in remaining on deck and 
getting the fresh air. I dared not lie down in 
my berth. The instant I did so the pangs of 
seasickness began to grip me. 

So for two days I stood on deck — no chairs 
or benches were permitted out there, as the 
decks were stripped for action — clinging to the 
railing of the deckhouse while the hea^'y seas 
broke over the deck and gurgled about my 
ankles. I managed to spend a few hours each 
night in my berth, asleep, but I was pretty well 
wearied with the struggle by the time the sea 
grew calmer. 

It was near midnight of the second day when 
the destroyers winked across the waves, with 



390 WITH SEEING EYES 

flashes of light, the message: " Good-bye. 
Good luck." Then they turned back. In- 
stantly from the bridge to the engine-room of 
each transport flashed the order, " Full speed 
ahead ! " And in the darkness and the storm 
each transport, with engines throbbing their 
utmost, dashed ahead. From now on to the 
American coast it was to be each ship for itself 
and God for us all. 

When the dawn crept over the sea the Louis- 
ville was alone. One ship was speedier than 
ours and had outrun us, while we had left the 
others in the rear. 

It was September and very cold as we swung 
far to the northward, zigzagging continually. 
There came a night when with engines stopped 
we lay tossing on a fog-wrapped sea, our whis- 
tles moaning. Aside from the danger of a 
collision with some other ship, we dared not 
drive ahead in that fog, for signs of icebergs 
had been discovered. That the signs had not 
been misread was proven the next morning, 
when we sighted a huge, floating mountain of 
ice about four miles away. During that day 
we passed close to two other mammoth bergs, 



THE GLOW IN THE SKY 391 

and on each our gunners indulged in target 
practice with the five-inch guns. 

One evening our wireless picked up a mes- 
sage from a freighter stating that it was being 
attacked by a submarine. Ten minutes later 
another message said that the U-boat was shell- 
ing its victim. Then the calls suddenly ceased. 

The Louisville immediately changed her 
course and redoubled her watch once more, but 
did not attempt to seek the vessel supposedly in 
distress. Cowardly desertion, say you? Not 
at all. It was the iron-clad rule. It was a fa- 
vorite little sport of U-boat commanders to 
send out such decoy messages and then torpedo 
the ships that went rushing to the rescue. That 
had been successfully worked in months and 
years gone bj^ until vessels were forbidden to 
heed such messages. So we steamed on our 
way, scanning every wave. 

Dusk and dawn were the hours of greatest 
danger, for at those times submarines could see 
the huge bulks of shij)s while the U-boats were 
almost invisible. 

Nearing the American coast our wireless 
gave us warning of the activities of submarines, 



392 WITH SEEING EYES 

and we again changed our course to avoid the 
route we had expected to take in reaching New 
York harbor. Now we were in the Gulf 
Stream again, and the weather was delight- 
ful. 

At last there came a night which we knew 
was to be the last of our voyage. The coast of 
our beloved America was near, and in the 
morning we would sail up New York harbor 
past the Statue of Liberty. 

That last evening I told myself that I would 
be perfectly calm and sensible, that I would go 
to bed at the usual hour and sleep sweetly until 
morning. I kept part of the program. I went 
to bed at the usual hour. I undressed like a 
gentleman, lay me down in my berth, shut my 
eyes and said to myself, " I'm asleep." But 
my eyes wouldn't stay shut. I was thinking of 
the land toward which the Louisville was now 
slowly making her way, creeping cautiously 
forward in the darkness. 

My roommate was sleeping calmly. That 
was what one should do, of course. Only chil- 
dren waiting for Santa Claus or the coming of 
the circus trains lay wide-eyed as I was doing. 



THE GLOW IN THE SKY 393 

It was very foolish of me. So I closed my eyes 
very tightly and resolutely, and again I mur- 
mured, " I'm asleep ! I'm asleep ! " I even 
tried to snore in order to deceive myself. No 
use. I sat up in bed. 

" You're a fool, all right," I said to myself, 
" so why not admit it, let it go at that, and do 
what you're crazy to do. You're not asleep, 
you're not going to sleep, and you don't want 
to sleep. What you do want to do is to get out 
on deck and look for the first glimmer of your 
homeland." 

I gave up. Dressing as quickly as I could — 
and as quietly as possible in order not to 
awaken the calm being in the other berth — I 
almost ran up to the promenade deck. Noth- 
ing but brooding darkness. The ship was slip- 
ping forward very slowly, the sea was dead 
calm, and utter silence prevailed. I leaned on 
the rail and strained my eyes toward where I 
knew land must be. 

An hour or more went by. It was one 
o'clock when it seemed to me that far away, 
low down — along the very edge of the sea — I 
could detect a faint glow. Perhaps my strain- 



394 WITH SEEING EYES 

ing eyes had played me a trick. I relaxed my 
vigil for a few minutes and rested my eyes by 
covering them with my hand. Then I looked 
again, and joy flamed into my soul. There was 
no doubt of it. A glow was on the horizon, and 
as we slowly steamed forward the glow rose 
higher and higher into the sky. 

I leaned over the rail, unconsciously, in my 
effort to get closer to that gladdening light. I 
felt a touch on my arm, and, turning, saw a 
sailor standing by my side. He pointed toward 
the glow. 

" Sir," he said in a low voice, " yonder is 
America! " 

" Yes, yes," I replied in the same subdued 
voice, for, somehow, one felt that it was a mo- 
ment for tenderness and reverence, " America! 
It's a wonderful land, lad." 

" It's God's country, sir," He answered 
softly. 

I turned slowly and looked at him. He was 
leaning forward with clasped hands, and I 
could see the rapt expression on his strong, 
handsome face. 

" You're right, lad," I said. " It is God's 



THE GLOW IN THE SKY 395 

country. I used to hear it called that, and I 
thought it merely an idle phrase, but you and 
I have seen enough to know the truth, to know 
that our America is a God-loved and blessed 
country." 

" Yes, sir," he said, slowly. " And I hope 
that our people will not forget. America has 
found her soul, sir, and I never come into this 
harbor at night without thinking that it is 
America's soul that I see glowing there in the 
sky." 

He turned away to his duties, and I stood 
watching that glow, growing brighter and 
brighter, and I thought of it as the sailor lad 
had symbolized it — America's soul glowing in 
the sky. 

And my thoughts flashed back to war-torn 
France, to the trenches, to the fields where so 
many of America's sons would die that day. I 
thought of how for more than three years Civ- 
ilization had stood with its back to the wall, 
battling and looking across the sea and calling 
to the young giant of the new world, " Amer- 
ica! America! Why don't you come? " And 
at last America had leaped to the side of Right 



396 WITH SEEING EYES 

— and now by reason of her efforts Humanity 
was discovering a new glow in the heavens, a 
glow that rose and grew brighter. Truly, it 
was the soul of America. 

Thousands of our youth had died on the bat- 
tle-field. Thousands more must die there be- 
fore peace would come. They had marched 
forth with our pledge that their sacrifices 
should not be in vain. Would America for- 
get? 

And the glow grew brighter and brighter 
until the dawn came and the rising sun made 
the world light. The Statue of Liberty came 
into view, the upraised hand welcoming us back 
from the perils of the sea and the sorrows of the 
desolated land beyond. 

At noon I walked down the gangplank and 
stood once more on the soil of America. Joy? 
Ah, yes. But I could not forget the boys of 
that heroic army I had left over there. This 
proud, rich, wonderful America was being 
saved by their blood and suffering. 

Would the glow of America's soul ever dim 
because of the heedlessness of a people tri- 
umphant? 

SL' 2 47 



THE GLOW IN THE SKY 397 

This was the question I asked myself that 
day. Often have I asked it since that landing 
hour. 

What shall the answer be? 



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